


The Half-Blood Alpha

by Durrant



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bonding, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 120,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Durrant/pseuds/Durrant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He would have done anything to be rid of the fragment of Voldemort's soul; it just would have been nice if Dumbledore had explained a bit more clearly what exactly an omega was, and why that meant that Snape had to bite him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Ah, there you are, m’boy. I’m sorry to intrude on you two evenings in a row, but…”

“That’s quite alright, sir,” Harry piped up as Dumbledore trailed off. The old man gave him a sad smile and tapped his desk with his wand; instantly, a tea tray appeared.

“Tea, Harry?”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said, watching curiously as Dumbledore poured out the tea in silence. “Is this about what we were talking about last night? Have you found another Horcrux already?”

Dumbledore handed him a teacup and sighed deeply.

“In a way, Harry, in a way.”

Dumbledore set his own teacup on the desk and leaned back in his chair. 

“For some time, I have been worried about the connection between you and Tom and, after seeing Horace’s memory, I’m afraid that my suspicions have been confirmed.”

The Headmaster paused to take a sip of his tea and Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that the man was afraid. It was disconcerting and made Harry rather nervous. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what had the power to scare the greatest wizard in the world. 

“I believe that, on the night that Tom murdered your parents, he had intended, with your death, to make his last Horcrux. When your mother’s protection thwarted him, and his curse rebounded, part of his soul broke off. That soul fragment attached itself to the only living thing remaining in the room.”

Dumbledore looked at him sadly as Harry stared at him aghast. It was like some horrible nightmare, Harry’s brain connecting the dots to form one horrific conclusion. This couldn’t be possible. What Dumbledore was saying was impossible, it couldn’t be true. 

“Harry… That piece of his soul latched onto you, that is why you received some of his powers, that is why you have such an extraordinary connection to him; you are one of his Horcruxes.”

“No!” Harry’s yell came out as a strangled gasp. He wouldn’t believe it; he didn’t want to believe it, yet it made so much sense. He was carrying part of the soul of the man who murdered his parents. “No,” he repeated, this time whispering his denial as his head swung back and forth, trying to stave off Dumbledore’s words.

“I am very sorry, Harry. And I am sorry also that I cannot give you more time to think about this devastating news. We have been very fortunate that Tom no longer sees fit to look into your mind, however, now that you understand the connection better, I am afraid that further action must be taken. Before you knew you were a Horcrux, he would have had to sort through your head to find out what we have been discussing in our evenings together; something which he would have been loathe to do, as being inside your head pains him greatly. Now that you, and indeed the Horcrux inside you, know what you are, he would realise the second he slipped into your mind. For that reason alone, we must act swiftly.”

“I have to die, don’t I?” Harry wished he could keep his voice steady, but he couldn’t quite keep the tremour out of his voice. 

“No, Harry,” Dumbledore interjected quickly, “You are right to assume that the steps we must take will be extreme, but, I think you will find, they won’t be as bad as all that.”

“There’s another way to destroy the Horcrux?”

Dumbledore hesitated minutely. 

“There is a way to force the soul piece from you. If you were no longer a suitable host then, I believe, that the soul fragment would disappear. Unfortunately, I cannot be sure if the fragment would be destroyed, or if it would return to Tom. However, as Tom has been unable to recognise the destruction of any of his other Horcruxes, I think we shall be safe either way.”

Harry nodded. He wanted to cry but he seemed to be too removed from his body to be able to. Voldemort was inside him, had always been inside him. It made Harry feel incredibly dirty. And worse of all, Voldemort could slip inside his head at any time and then he’d know everything. 

“How do I stop being a suitable host?” Harry asked numbly.

“Ah, well that, Harry, may be simpler than you imagine. Or rather, the process is simple; the explanation is rather more complex and I hope you will forgive me if I stick to the most relevant points for now. Long, long ago witches and wizards lived side by side with muggles, and, although the two groups knew they were different from each other, it was not magic that separated them. No, muggles were known as betas and they resembled, well, they resembled muggles as we see them today. Magic users were known as alphas and omegas; they were human, but slightly different from those around them. Omega magic was purer than any known in the modern age. Physically, there were some slight differences between the betas and the magic folk; in the way that they mated and their sense of smell, but, other than that, they lived together in harmony. So little is known of that time and no-one can ever know for sure why this happened, but suddenly omegas began to give birth to betas. These betas were very special; they were capable of magic. And so was born the modern magical age. Unfortunately, as more magical betas were born, fewer and fewer alphas and omegas were born. Betas could only produce more betas, and the occasional alpha, but an omega needed to be born of another omega. 

“The last omega died two hundred years ago. No-one alive today has ever met an omega. It is my firm belief that if you were to become an omega, a person of such pure magic, then Tom’s soul fragment would flee from you.”

Harry frowned at the obvious flaw in the plan.

“If there’s a way of making someone into an omega, then why did the omegas ever die out, sir?” Harry asked. He’d never heard of anything about alphas or omegas before and, although he wasn’t terribly attentive in Binn’s class, he was sure he would have remembered hearing about them. At the very least, they seemed like the sort of thing that Hermione would have been fascinated with but he was positive that she had never mentioned them. 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled and he stroked his beard. 

“That is because I invented the potion. In my younger days I had quite the way with potions, although, for many years, I had thought that this potion would only ever be of academic interest.”

“So… I’ll just drink a potion, and it will make my magic purer, but I’ll still look like me. I’m not going to suddenly change into anything...I’ll, I’ll still be human, right, sir?” Harry’s voice sounded desperate to his own ears. There was so much information and all he really wanted was to get away and think about all this.

“There are ramifications to becoming an omega but nothing too onerous. I apologise once again for not giving you more time to think before embarking on such a life changing journey; however time is of the essence, and, as our only other option is your death, we are very limited. Your appearance will stay the same, however alphas and omegas relied on more than just sight; these people had an amazing sense of smell. And therein lies our biggest dilemma. 

“Although no omegas have been born in hundreds of years, it is not unknown for pureblood families to produce the occasional alpha. These alphas will be able to smell that you are an omega. As almost every known alpha is a Death Eater, it would be calamitous if you were discovered to be an omega. So, naturally, we must take steps to hide your scent. Unfortunately, Harry, there is only one documented way of changing an omega’s scent; if you were to bond to an alpha, then you would smell of that alpha. The scent is entirely indiscernible to betas, but without bonding yourself to an alpha, I fear you would be discovered within hours of leaving this office.”

“Can’t I just, I don’t know, shower more often? Twice a day? Everyday?”

Dumbledore shook his head, the twinkle in his eyes dimming. 

“No, I’m afraid not, Harry. However, luck is not completely against us. We are fortunate to have an alpha who is already a member of the Order of the Phoenix; Professor Snape.”

“What? Sir, I, I can’t...I have to smell like him? What does it mean, to bond with him? Does, does he have to touch me?” Harry squealed, sickened by the thought of having to have anything to do with Snape. Having him as a teacher was bad enough, he didn’t want to have any other connection to him. 

“Harry, the bond is necessary, but it should not change your relationship with him in any discernible way. To form the bond he will have to touch you, but I assure you that it will only take a second and I shall be present throughout. As for his scent, yes, you will smell of him. However, none of your beta classmates will notice any change and those very few student alpha students will believe that you are also an alpha.”

Harry pulled nervously on the cuff of his jumper. Dumbledore made everything seem so simple, but this was all happening too fast. Dumbledore made bonding with Snape sound like it was some insignificant thing, and Harry desperately wanted to believe him. He wanted as little to do with Snape as possible and the word bonding sounded so terribly ominous.

“I hate to press you, Harry. But, if you’re ready, if you’re prepared, I shall call for Severus. He has the potion that we need and we can initiate the bond between the two of you. The whole thing will be over in a matter of minutes, and then you can go back to Gryffindor Tower.”

Harry shook his head automatically. He needed more time to think and he didn’t want Snape to see him like this; weak and defenceless. The man would only sneer at him. 

“I’ll still be me, won’t I, Professor? I mean, all this stuff about scents and alphas and omegas, nothing can change who I am, can it, Professor?” 

“My boy, I don’t think there is anything in the world that could stop you from being the fearless young man that you are today. Being an omega will affect you, but it will not change your life; except, of course, that it will bring you one step closer to removing Tom from your life.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll do it,” Harry said shakily. There wasn’t really a decision to make here. As unpleasant as becoming an omega sounded, it was better than having to die to stop being Voldemort’s Horcrux. Dumbledore beamed at him.

“Thank you, Harry. I think you’ve made the right choice. There is one more thing. I know that I am putting an incredible burden on your shoulders, but I must ask that you keep what happens here tonight to yourself. Even telling Miss Granger and Mr Weasley could lead to dire consequences.”

“But, but I’ve been telling them everything,” Harry spluttered. Dumbledore nodded sadly. 

“I do not mean to say that they are not trustworthy, Harry. But we are dealing with an enemy who has the power to look into our very minds. We are already taking a great risk by sharing our knowledge of Horcruxes with them.”

Harry nodded unhappily. He knew what it was like to have Voldemort mess with his thoughts, and he wouldn’t wish that on either of his friends. Dumbledore didn’t wait for him to give a verbal answer, instead he went to the fireplace and threw Floo powder into the flames. 

“Severus? Would you come through to my office, please?” Dumbledore called out into the green flames before walking back to his seat behind his desk. There was no response from the fireplace, but after a moment Snape stepped through the flames, his dark robes flapping around him like bat’s wings. 

“Albus - ” Snape began in an annoyed tone as he brushed his hands along his chest, fastidiously sweeping Floo powder from his robes, breaking off as soon as he saw he was not alone with the Headmaster. Snape raised a disdainful eyebrow at Harry, who blushed and looked away. The Potions Master looked just as sallow as ever as he towered over Harry and the Headmaster. 

Harry steeled himself. As long as the bond only meant what Dumbledore had explained, then he could do this. The word bonding sounded like it meant more than just taking on someone’s scent, it sounded like something that people who liked each other did; like when friends bonded over shared experiences. Obviously, there was another meaning, because nothing in the world could make him like Snape.

Of course, as Snape was an alpha then that meant he was from a pureblood family. Harry’s lip curled of its own volition. He should have known that the Head of Slytherin, a house obsessed with blood supremacy, would have some snobbish pureblood background. Snape’s lazy drawl brought Harry from his thoughts. “You wished to see me?”

“Yes, thank you, Severus. I believe you know why you are here?”

Snape nodded curtly and produced a vial of black potion from his robes.

“Headmaster - “

Dumbledore held up his good hand in a gesture that called for silence. Snape stopped talking with such an angry expression that Harry wondered if he had actually bitten his tongue. He supposed that Snape was angry that Dumbledore was showing him up in front of Harry. If the situation had been less serious he might have grinned to see his hated Potions Master so uncomfortable. 

“Time is too short to rehash old arguments, my friend. Know, at the very least, that this is perhaps the ultimate fulfilment of your vow and, I daresay, it would make a certain old friend of yours very happy.”

Snape didn’t move from his place in front of the fire, choosing instead to scowl at Dumbledore as Harry looked between the two of the in confusion. Snape was scowling so heavily at Dumbledore that Harry was almost relieved that the professor was ignoring him. Harry had never seen him so angry, not even when Sirius had escaped the Dementors and Snape had been spitting mad. What vow had Snape sworn? What old friend could Snape possibly have? In Harry’s Second Year he’d seen him talking to Lucius Malfoy, but he’d never seen him even talk to another adult that wasn’t a teacher or a member of the Order. 

“And Weasley?” Snape spat.

Harry startled as Snape mentioned Ron’s name. It felt like Snape and Dumbledore were having an entire conversation, but as they were only saying a few words, Harry was completely left out. He tried to work out why Snape would mention Ron. It seemed out of character that Snape would care about whether or not he could tell his friends about this whole ordeal. 

“You are well aware of my reservations, Severus. Indeed, I’m sure that you share them.”

Snape sat down heavily in the armchair across from Harry, but still the sallow man didn’t deign to look at him. Snape’s scowl relaxed slightly.

“Very well, Albus. You leave me with very little choice.”

Dumbledore smiled sagely as Snape held out the vial of potion to Harry. He looked at it uneasily, he’d never trusted Snape and now Dumbledore was asking him to willingly ingest one of Snape’s potions. 

“Is there another way to become an omega?” Harry asked the Headmaster, but Snape gave an annoyed snort and thrust the vial into his hands. It felt strangely cold in his hands and Harry let the vial drop onto Dumbledore’s desk in surprise. 

“No, I’m afraid not. Harry, for the bond to take there must be an exchange of body fluids. I understand that this may be a little embarrassing; I assure you that I would give you more privacy if I could, but Professor Snape will have to bite you. It won’t take long. Could you loosen your collar, please, Harry?”

“Bite me?” Harry gasped, looking in astonishment between Dumbledore and Snape, “But...Does he have to? I mean, can’t we bond without touching?”

Beside him, he heard Snape snort inelegantly. Harry ignored him and turned to gaze pleadingly at the Headmaster. Dumbledore pursed his lips but didn’t answer Harry. He supposed it didn’t matter. The bond was necessary and, although being bitten by Snape was pretty much his worst nightmare, this was part of the fight against Voldemort, and he would do anything to defeat him. Harry reached up and pulled on his tie. He glanced at Snape, convinced that if the man was laughing at him then he wouldn’t be able to go through with this, but Snape wasn’t even looking at him. The man was staring at the floor with a sour expression. Well, Harry wasn’t happy about this situation, but at least he wasn’t going to be as surly as Snape about doing what was necessary. He undid his top few buttons but didn’t loosen his shirt anymore than he had to. He hated the way that he didn’t have any chest hair yet, even though Ron did. Neither of the teachers seemed to notice his embarrassment, although Harry tugged at his shirt so much that he thought his discomfort must have been very obvious. 

“Harry, I am so very proud of you,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling as Harry reached for vial of black potion. Harry unscrewed the lid and sniffed it experimentally. It didn’t smell of anything at all. He hated having to trust one of Snape’s potions, but at least if Snape was using this potion to poison him then Dumbledore would finally know that Snape really was a traitor. 

Snape himself didn’t look too excited, in fact Harry thought he looked like he was about to be sick. It rather cheered Harry up. Anything that made Snape look like that had to be a good thing. Harry gave one last smile to Dumbledore then tilted his head back and downed the black potion. 

It tasted odd, like something half forgotten, a distant memory that hovered at the edge of his mind so that Harry couldn’t quite remember where he’d tasted it before. He could feel it, pouring down the back of his mouth and chilling his throat and stomach. He shivered as the coldness seemed to seep through his entire body and he hugged his arms to his chest. Dumbledore half stood out of his chair, and Harry thought he was going to come and help him but Dumbledore stopped himself leaving Harry feeling oddly alone as he shivered again. He squeezed his eyes closed and hunched over, breathing deeply. 

He didn’t know why but suddenly he was so, so very _angry_. How dare Dumbledore just give him some unknown potion! How dare he just tell Harry that he had to become an omega, without explaining anything! Dumbledore never gave him full answers. He was always keeping secrets, always holding something back and Harry was so sick of it. All these endless half-truths! It would serve the old goat right if he refused to kill Voldemort. If he - 

Harry gasped and clutched at his head. His scar hurt! His whole body was cold, but his scar felt like it was freezing, like it was made of ice and it was pressing against his skin and burning him with cold. Even his hands were being burnt by the cold, but he could sense that it was nearly over. It was nearly over.

Slowly the sense of cold receded and he felt himself slowly warming up. Under his hands, his scar pulsed softly and then stilled. There was an overwhelming sense of _loss._ Like part of himself had been lost in the coldness, that it would never warm up again; like part of him had just died. Harry blinked back a tear. 

He’d been Voldemort’s Horcrux and now he wasn’t. He’d felt part of Voldemort’s soul die and he should be happy that it was gone. 

“Harry? Are you alright? How are you feeling?” Dumbledore asked, sounding more worried than Harry had ever heard him. Harry took another gasping breath. He meant to answer Dumbledore’s question, he meant to tell him how cold he was; but then a strange new scent hit him and he had to take another lungful of air so that he could smell it properly. All thoughts about Voldemort’s dead soul fragment vanished as he inhaled.

The scent was strong, it smelled like the stones of Hogwarts itself, like magic and home and Harry wanted to curl up in it and never smell anything else again. Harry sniffed experimentally, trying to work out where the scent was coming from but it seemed to be coming from Snape himself. Obviously nothing about that man could smell that good, it must be something he had on him; some potion ingredient in his pocket maybe.

Harry’s head swam and he struggled to focus on Dumbledore, when what he wanted most of all was to sniff at whatever it was that Snape had on him. 

“You may feel a little disoriented, Harry,” Dumbledore said from somewhere to Harry’s side. “Severus? Would you?”

And then Snape was there, right in front of Harry and so close that he could see the pores of his nose and it made Harry want to giggle. Who would have thought Snape was so human? He looked away hurriedly, focusing instead on one of the many buttons on Snape’s black robes. 

Snape knelt in front of him, in between Harry’s open legs and it made Harry feel a little strange. People didn’t tend to get that physically close to him and it felt slightly wrong to have someone, especially a teacher, just there. But then he breathed in that delicious scent again and all his muscles seemed to relax. He was safe here, after all. Even Snape wouldn’t do anything bad to him in front of Dumbledore. 

But Snape wasn’t moving any closer. He was just kneeling, stock still in between Harry’s spread legs. It was going on for too long. Of course Snape would take a situation that was embarrassing for Harry and make it even worse. Harry glanced at the man’s face and saw that he was staring at Harry’s exposed neck with the strangest expression on his face. Harry wasn’t sure if it was anger or not, but he had to think it was; Snape was almost always angry about something, and now he was going to have the chance to take out his anger by gouging into Harry’s neck.

Harry tapped his foot nervously and the motion seemed to distract Snape from the trance he’d fallen into. Snape leaned forward quickly, still not quite touching Harry, but close enough that he could feel his professor’s hot breath on his neck. The sudden movement made Harry think of a large predator stalking its prey. It was an unsettling image. Harry looked up at the ceiling, willing for this to over quickly. The scent that Snape seemed to carry with him was even stronger now and he wished that it didn’t smell so good. The breathing on his neck was so gentle, like he imagined a caress would feel like. Harry shivered and glanced down to see a head of greasy hair. If this was anyone other than Snape, he might have enjoyed this. 

Oily hair tickled Harry’s chin, and now Harry was looking at it, he couldn’t look away. He opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it. He didn’t _want_ to encourage Snape to bite him. Suddenly Snape moved forward, pressing his face into Harry’s neck for a brief second and then Harry felt the man’s teeth pressing against the soft skin where his neck met his shoulder. It wasn’t possible to repress a shudder as he imagined Snape’s crooked, yellow teeth pressing against him. And then Snape bit down.

Harry yelped, shocked by how much Snape was hurting him. 

Of course, Harry had understood that if they had to exchange blood and saliva, then the bite would have to pierce his skin, but he hadn’t been expecting this. It felt like Snape was drinking his blood! Over the years he’d heard so many rumours about Snape being a vampire, and here he was, actually drinking Harry’s blood. If it hadn’t hurt so much he would have laughed.

The pain worsened. What had started off as a sting became worse and worse as Snape’s teeth tore into his flesh. Even though he’d agreed to do this, he couldn’t let this continue another second. He put his hands onto Snape’s chest and pushed him away with all his strength. The man didn’t even budge. It was like pushing at a wall. He gave an inarticulate yell of frustration. Of course, Snape wasn’t going to have any mercy on him. The man would take any chance he could get to inflict pain on Harry. 

Harry shivered again, because besides all the pain there was another feeling. One that he associated with being alone, late at night, with the curtains drawn shut around his bed and he furtively touched himself. His cock twitched and Harry was mortified. He was going to die of shame. Not only was a _man_ making him feel this way, but, even worse, it was his disgusting Potions Master. 

Harry screwed his eyes shut and tried to think of something revolting; before he had thought that Snape was the most disgusting thing he could imagine, but now he tried to think of something else, of anything. Of flobberworms and Blast-Ended Skrewts. 

His hands were still resting on Snape’s chest, but now he wasn’t pushing Snape away and he could feel hard muscles underneath the layers of black cloth. It felt so wrong to be touching a teacher like this, but Harry didn’t want to stop. It was so _confusing!_

Luckily, just then, Snape released him, backing away from Harry as if he were poisonous. Harry shut his legs, grateful that it was finally over. Snape’s lips were stained red and, when he looked at Harry, his face was completely blank and devoid of his usual sneer.

Snape sat down in his chair again, and pressed the palm of his hand to sop up the blood from his lips. It was a strikingly strange gesture. Harry would have thought that Snape would have disdainfully wiped Harry’s blood away with the back of his hand, but the way that he was cupping his hand around the residue of Harry’s blood made it seem like Snape thought it was precious. Like he didn’t want to waste a drop. 

Harry gingerly touched his neck and found to his surprise that, where there should be a gaping wound, there was just raised skin. Somehow the wound had already healed over.

“Harry? How are feeling?” Dumbledore asked, and Harry realised he’d been staring at Snape.

“I...I’m cold, sir,” Harry said dazedly. 

Dumbledore smiled and stood up, a fluffy pink blanket materialising in his hands as he walked towards Harry. But, before he could reach him, Snape did the strangest thing. He made a low noise in the back of his throat, almost like a dog growling. It was so strange that Harry almost thought that he had imagined it. Dumbledore, who had looked like he intended to drape the blanket over Harry’s shoulders, paused and then handed Harry the blanket before returning to his seat. 

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re very welcome, dear boy. Now do you have any questions?”

“Erm,” Harry had felt so rushed before, but now there was time for questions and his mind was still so foggy that he couldn’t quite remember what he’d wanted to ask. “I…” he trailed off, embarrassed. He expected Snape to make some cutting remark about Harry being dimwitted, but the man remained oddly silent. As soon as he thought about Snape, he felt an irresistible draw to look at the man. The Potion’s Master was still looking down at his open hand, as if he couldn’t believe that Harry’s blood still there. 

“Harry,” Dumbledore interrupted loudly, “The transformation can be a very draining process. I think we should have a few words about the changes that we may expect to see in your magic and then you should go and get some much deserved rest. Severus, thank you for all your help this evening. It has been invaluable.”

Snape started slightly, and finally deigned to look at Dumbledore. 

“You’re sending me away? Now, Albus?” his yellow teeth were stained with Harry’s blood, making him look even more monstrous than usual. Harry’s lip curled in disgust at himself. He couldn’t believe the way his body had reacted to Snape making him bleed. Perhaps, if Ginny and he got closer, he might ask her to bite him. That would feel really good.

The Headmaster’s face softened. 

“Do not think that I don’t appreciate your efforts, old friend. But, as you went to some pains to point out to me in the past, this is the extent of your involvement.”

Snape stood quickly in a billowing cloud of black robes, an angry snarl coming from his throat that seemed almost inhuman. Harry didn’t look round as Snape stomped from the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He doubted he’d ever be able to look at Snape again, the whole thing had been so embarrassing. Thankfully it was all over, the most important part was that Voldemort was gone. He’d never be able to invade Harry’s thoughts and dreams again.

“Would you like some more tea, Harry? No?” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled and he grinned happily. “Well, I think that went as well as could be expected. I believe that Tom’s soul fragment didn’t manage to escape as you transformed and that it died. I do hope the experience wasn’t too disturbing for you?”

Harry shook his head numbly and stifled a yawn. He felt so tired but he had to stay awake for this conversation. Now that Snape had gone, that wonderful smell was gone too. There was a faint trace of it still in the air.

“Perhaps, we should have this discussion another time, after you’ve had a good night’s sleep, hmm? In the meantime, the knowledge of your transformation will remain between the three of us. There maybe some other effects later on; your magic was transformed instantly, but physically you may feel some slight changes in the next few weeks.”

“What kind of changes? Won’t people be able to tell that my magic is different?” Harry asked worriedly. He did not like the sound of that. 

“Your magic, now, is purer. Which, in essence, means that your magical core will work in conjunction with your wand core more efficiently; without the usual impurities that the rest of us have to worry about. You may find that your spells feel more powerful now, although you may not. You yourself have the same amount of magic, but you are able to access it more efficiently.”

“And,” Harry yawned, ”What about physical changes?”

Dumbledore gave him a tight smile.

“I suspect that the biggest change will be living without the shadow of Tom in your head.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t want to tell Dumbledore that he already felt different. That he was already missing the piece of Tom that he’d always thought was just part of him. It felt wrong. He couldn’t grieve for the soul of his parent’s murderer.

“I think I’d like go now, Professor. I’m very tired.”

“Of course, please remember that my door is always open to you. You have paid a heavy price to be rid of that Horcrux, but tonight we have taken a great step towards victory over Tom.”

“Thank you. Goodnight, Professor.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” Dumbledore's cheery voice called after him, but as Harry walked down the spiral staircase out of Dumbledore’s office he couldn’t help but think about the man’s parting words. Was becoming an omega a heavy price? The way that it had been described to him, Harry couldn’t see why. Even the stairwell smelled slightly of the scent that Snape had been carrying. At this rate he’d be able to track Snape all around Hogwarts by just following his nose. Not that he would ever want to do that. 

“Potter!” Snape hissed emerging from the shadows just past the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster’s tower. Harry hadn’t seen him at all. In the half-light, the man’s pallid skin seemed to glow inhumanely.

“Professor! You startled me!” Harry said accusingly. 

“You should be more careful, Mr Potter,” Snape drawled sarcastically. ”Ten points from Gryffindor for being out after curfew.”

“But,” Harry stammered, stunned by how unfair Snape was being, even by the man’s usual standards. “But I was with the Headmaster. You were there too!”

“Tell me, Potter, is there any school rule that you think applies to you? Or is the Chosen One simply above all of them?”

“No! I - “

“Move, Potter! Now!” Snape interrupted him with a bellow. Harry bit back a reply and turned away sullenly. To his surprise, Snape muttered a _Lumos_ to light his wand and followed him. 

They walked in tense silence, Snape just behind him, herding him along corridors and up staircases as they found their way by the light of Snape’s wand. If it had been anyone else, Harry would have wanted to talk about what they’d just done. He’d have asked about the bite mark that he now had, and why the skin had healed over so quickly. But this was Snape, and so Harry remained silent. 

Finally, when the Fat Lady was in sight, Snape spoke to him.

“I have put up with your endless rule-breaking, but know this, Mr Potter. It ends now. You will not break curfew again. Believe me, I will find out if you do and the punishment will be severe. And, now, not even the Headmaster will interfere.” Snape’s eyes glittered as he threatened Harry.

“Yes, sir,” Harry bit out. It galled him to have to call Snape _sir_ , like he was someone that deserved his respect. He walked away without waiting for whatever else Snape had to say. The Fat Lady was still awake to let him in, but, strangely, as he stepped into the Common Room, he happened to look back and see that Snape was still standing in the same place. He hadn’t moved at all. He’d stood, waiting, until Harry was back in his Common Room.

Harry frowned. Snape was such a suspicious git. He’d probably thought Harry was going to try and sneak out to break curfew properly. 

Everyone else in his dorm was already asleep so Harry tiptoed across the room. Ron’s loud snores reverberated around the room with comforting familiarity. He pulled his robes off and fell straight to sleep, putting from his mind all thoughts of omegas and Horcruxes.


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up to the usual noises of his dorm mates getting dressed and ready for the day. He could hear Seamus arguing with Neville about his plant taking up too much space. It was so _normal_ , so nicely mundane. He snuggled down, relishing his warm blankets, shutting out the bright sunlight streaming into the dorm, not willing to get up just yet. Everything that had happened last night seemed like a very strange dream. 

He couldn’t even tell his friends about what had happened, which made it feel all the more unreal. Like an interesting fact that he might have to learn in class, but never really affected him and was never talked about, so he could just put it from his mind and forget about it. 

“Harry? Are you getting up? You’ll be late for breakfast.” Ron called, poking at Harry’s duvet covered back.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming. I’ll be down in a minute,” Harry answered, not moving. He waited until he heard the others leave and only Neville remained, muttering softly to the plant by his bedside.

He needed to see what the mark on his neck looked like and he didn’t want anyone else seeing it first. Covering his neck with his hand, he slipped out of the dormitory and ran to the bathroom. It was mercifully deserted and gave him a chance to peer at the bitemark.

There wasn’t any bruising or discolouration; in fact, if he hadn’t known that it had happened last night, he would have thought he’d had the mark for months. His skin was raised in odd little bumps of scar tissue that, he realised with horror, showed the crooked outline of Snape’s teeth. It was a disgusting thought.

There was one small mercy; it was mostly covered by his shirt collar, and as long as he remembered to keep his tie done up, then he would be safe and no-one would notice it. Harry groaned. How long was he going to have to keep this covered up? How long was this bond with Snape going to last?

* * *

“Harry! What time did you get to bed last night? You look exhausted!” Hermione scolded as he sat down to breakfast. He poured himself a cup of tea and grabbed a piece of toast before shrugging.

“I had to see the Headmaster.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she looked around to make sure no-one was listening before leaning in to whisper. 

“Was it about what you told us about yesterday?”

“Hermione!” Ron’s reproachful exclamation was muffled through a mouthful of bacon, but Harry just shook his head.

“Nah,” Harry shook his head as Lavender Brown sat down heavily further up the table. Her eyes looked puffy as if she’d been crying for hours. “He just wanted to check up on me. I’m not sure why it took so long really. There wasn’t any new information. Look, do you think Lavender’s alright?” he finished in a low voice. Hermione, who had been perched on the edge of her seat, leaned backwards as if she was trying to not be part of the conversation any more. Ron stiffened and looked a bit nervous. 

“We broke up. She, er, saw me and Hermione coming out of the boy’s dorms the other night and obviously she couldn’t see that you were there too, cos of your cloak. And it wasn’t like I could explain what had happened. She’s not taking it very well.”

“Oh, sorry, Ron,” Harry said, not sure if his friend wanted sympathy or not. It seemed to him that Ron had been trying to break up with Lavender for awhile, but he still looked unhappy about how things had worked out. Ron shrugged awkwardly and shoved a forkful of sausage in his mouth.

“And Ginny and Dean broke up,” Hermione said with a knowing look at Harry. He looked away uncomfortably.

“Oh, really?” Harry’s voice sounded a little higher than usual.

“Hmm,” Hermione quirked her lips, “I think they’d been having problems for ages, but they got into a massive argument last night.”

Harry leaned back and looked along the Gryffindor table until he found Ginny’s bright red hair. She was sitting by herself with a miserable expression on her pretty face. Over her head, he saw Snape, his beady eyes watching Harry’s every move. Harry turned away hurriedly.

“Dean was being bang out of order, I should say something to him,” Ron said angrily. Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know, I think she was able to make herself pretty well understood last night,” she said with a giggle. Ron smiled back at her, his anger seemingly forgotten.

“Yeah, you should have seen it, Harry. It was almost better than when Mum yells at the twins.”

“She was really upset, you know, Ron,” Hermione said, standing up. “And we should hurry up if we don’t want to be late for Charms.”

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to be looking out for my little sister,” Ron grabbed a piece of toast and stood up too. Harry trailed after them as they made their way to class. Neither of his two closest friends had noticed anything different about him, and they hadn’t even been suspicious that he’d spent an entire evening with Dumbledore yet had nothing to tell them about it.

* * *

He was a little worried about using magic. Despite Dumbledore’s explanation, Harry didn’t like to think that just drinking one potion could have permanently changed his magic, or worse, that those around him would be able to tell that there was now something even more different about him. That he was now even more removed from having a normal life. He kept on reminding himself why he’d had to become an omega, that it was necessary to defeat Tom. But most of all he just wanted to pretend that everything was the same as before, and, if his magic turned out to suddenly be much stronger, then he wouldn’t be able to. 

Professor Flitwick was explaining something to them, but Harry was barely listening. He was too worried about his magic. He knew he was going to have to practise a new Charm in a minute and he had no idea what was going to happen. If only he’d got up early this morning and practised with his new magic. Or if Snape hadn’t insisted on following him all the way to the Gryffindor Common Room, then he might have had some time to himself to try a few spells.

In fact, he was thinking so hard about how his magic might be different, that he almost didn’t notice an odd _tingling_ in his crotch. It wasn’t quite painful, but it definitely wasn’t pleasurable. All his worries about the strength of his magic disappeared, because this was definitely more important.

For a while, he thought it must be another student cursing him. But after five minutes of looking round the classroom, he couldn’t find anyone that was consistently looking at him; which would have been necessary to maintain the spell. He pushed his hand over his pants and tried to discreetly feel if there was anything wrong. Ron, who was sitting next to him, gave him an odd look and turned to stare pointedly at Professor Flitwick. 

“Now, I want you to try. The wand movement may seem basic, but it is the basis for a whole range of much more advanced Charms that will, undoubtedly feature on your NEWTs, and also very likely on your end of year exams. Raise your wands - “

But Harry didn’t hear the end of Professor Flitwick’s instructions. A jolt of pain made him flinch and he pressed his hand harder into his crotch. He was tempted to ask if he could go to the toilet, so that he would be able to go and see what was going on down there; but, as it was, he wasn’t sure that he would be able to stand. 

“Harry!” Ron whispered loudly, “You alright, mate? You look peaky.”

“Yeah, yeah, Ron. I’m fine,” Harry whispered back, hunching over slightly. Professor Flitwick had stopped talking and was watching the class expectantly as all the other students paired up and began practising the Charm that Flitwick had just taught them. Harry tried to straighten up, but then he felt another shiver of pain; his penis twitched, rubbing against the cotton of his underpants. He couldn’t spend the next half an hour sitting here like this. He stood up gingerly and made his way carefully to the front of the class. A couple of people gave him curious looks, but everyone else ignored him. 

“Professor, sir, please may I be excused. I...er...Don’t feel well.”

“Of course, Mr Potter, of course. Go up the hospital wing at once,” the tiny professor squeaked, eyeing Harry with concern. Harry thought he probably looked sick, he was still hunched over and his hands were clutching onto his stomach convulsively because he was too embarrassed to hold himself where it really hurt. 

“Thank you, sir,” Harry gasped in relief, already backing out of the classroom. As soon as he was in the corridor, he broke out into a hobbling sprint. He had to get to a toilet, had to find somewhere private where he could look at himself and see what was going on. Fortunately, there was a bathroom on this floor and he wouldn’t have to go up or down any stairs. He didn’t think he would have been able to cope with that. 

Five minutes later, he locked himself into a toilet stall and pulled down his pants. As soon as the cool air reached his penis, the pain subsided. Harry breathed a deep sigh of relief. He was almost scared to look down and see what was happening down there, it couldn’t be anything good. His penis was redder than normal and, surely he was imagining it, slightly smaller. It didn’t hurt to touch it, in fact, now that it was no longer rubbing against his clothes, his penis didn’t hurt at all. Harry gave his balls an experimental tug and felt a strange sensation against his hand. His balls felt slightly smaller too, but that had to be his imagination again, or maybe a side effect of the pain. When Harry lifted his hand he realised that it was covered in hair. Almost all the pubes on his balls had just fallen out. He looked anxiously at the dark hairs in his hand. 

What was he going to do? He couldn’t go to the Infirmary and tell Madam Pomfrey that he thought his genitals had shrunk, and that his pubes had fallen out. He’d die of shame before that happened. But then, what if this was the first symptom of some Wizarding disease that he’d never heard of? He suddenly remembered what Slughorn had said to Malfoy in Potions when the boy had mentioned his grandfather to Slughorn. He’d said something about dying of dragon pox; Harry had never heard of that before. He was sure Muggles didn’t catch it and Harry had no idea what the symptoms were. What if he had some fatal disease?

He leaned his head against the stall wall and tried to think about this more clearly. The cool air was making him feel much better and he stood, breathing slowly as the pain ebbed away. 

When the pain was almost entirely gone, Harry cautiously pulled up his pants. They weren’t hurting him at all now and Harry sighed in relief. If this ever happened again, if he ever had that kind of pain again, then he would definitely go and tell Madam Pomfrey. But as it had just been once, and it was all better now, there wasn’t any point. 

“Harry? You there?” Ron’s voice called out from outside his cubicle. 

“Yeah, I’m here,” Harry yelled back as he did up his trousers and unbolted the door.

“I was worried about you, mate. You never came back to class and I was going to go up to the Hospital Wing, but I thought I’d check in here first. Are you alright? Do you want to see Pomfrey or what? We’ve got a free period now, so we wouldn’t get out of class, but - ”

“I’m fine,” Harry interrupted, he did not want to tell Ron about this, “I just felt a bit funny. Let’s get out of here.”

Ron gave him a worried nod but didn’t say anything else as they left the bathroom. Hermione was waiting for them in the corridor and she hurried towards them as soon as Harry pushed open the bathroom door. 

“Harry! Are you feeling better? You missed all of the practice time in Charms, but we can go over it later, if you like?” Hermione fussed, looking at him earnestly. Harry felt himself blush and nodded silently. He was almost ashamed of worrying his friends so much, but he couldn’t bear to tell them what the problem really was. 

Instead, he followed Ron back up the Common Room and snuck away to the dorm to practise casting a few spells. He levitated some of his school books and made his pillows dance; he certainly didn’t feel any more powerful than before. The only spell that did feel different was the Patronus Charm. When he cast that, it felt _easier_ , he didn’t have to think about a happy memory; the magic just seemed to flow more smoothly. But then, when his patronus materialised, it looked different.

It was still a stag, but it had more of a personality than it had ever shown before. It kept on looking around, as if it was trying to find something. Harry let the stag wander around the room for a few minutes, before the magic dissipated and the creature disappeared. He supposed that if the only change to his magic was now having a slightly inquisitive Patronus, then becoming an omega wasn’t such a big deal after all.

As the day progressed, Harry tried to put the whole penis-pain incident out of his mind. His penis didn’t hurt at all anymore but it was only later, when they were standing outside the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom, waiting for Snape to let them in, that Harry thought to ask Ron what the symptoms of dragon pox were. 

“Dragon pox? Is this cos you were feeling sick earlier? You definitely don’t have that! It makes you turn green and sneeze fire,” Ron laughed and clapped him on the back before becoming serious. “You know, if you’re worried you’ve caught something, I could go with you to Madam Pomfrey. What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

Harry shuffled his feet. He did not want to talk about this, and especially not in public like this, but luckily at that moment Snape opened the classroom door and he was saved from answering. Ron gave him one last sympathetic look and then turned away to trudge to their usual desks. Harry followed after him but stopped short, unable to take another step into the classroom. There was that smell again, strong and virile and smelling like the essence of Hogwarts itself. It was the same thing he had smelled back in Dumbledore’s office; whatever it was that Snape had been carrying with him the night before.

It was mixed with a something else this time. There was a weak, woodsy smell that made Harry think of trailing through the Forbidden Forest in the rain; like damp wood on a cold day. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, just not quite as good as the first smell. He sniffed again and turned his head as he followed his nose. It was coming from the side of the classroom where all the Slytherins were sitting. Two of the Slytherins were looking at him with strange expressions. Malfoy was giving him a speculative stare, whilst Harper, a boy that Harry didn’t think he’d ever spoken to beyond yelling insults at one another during Quidditch matches, was glaring at him angrily. 

Hermione bumped into his back, not seeing that Harry had not moved further into the classroom. Harry didn’t budge, even when he heard Hermione’s muttered apology. He’d suddenly realised where that smell came from. This was what Dumbledore had meant when he said that alphas and omegas knew each other by their sense of smell. Once he’d changed into an omega he’d been able to _smell_ that Snape was an alpha, even though he hadn’t realised it at the time. Now he was smelling Snape again. That strong, delicious scent, that reminded Harry of the smell of Hogwarts, was Snape himself. The realisation didn’t stop the smell from being enticing, although Harry wished it did. The two Slytherin boys had to be alphas too, and he was smelling them; although their scents were nowhere near as strong as Snape’s was. 

“Mr Potter! What exactly do you think you doing? Surely, even you, are capable of walking into a classroom unaided?” Snape spoke angrily, his voice carrying across the room. Even though the man had opened the door to let the students in, he was all the way at the back of the classroom now, as if he were trying to avoid the incoming students. It was hardly a surprise that Snape wanted as little as possible to do with his students, but he usually only displayed his contempt through insults. 

Harry didn’t bother to answer him, he just put his head down and found his seat next to Ron. Luckily, Snape didn’t make any further comments and the class began as usual, albeit with Snape ignoring Harry completely rather than his usual demeaning comments. It turned out to be rather nice to not have Snape mocking him and sneering at everything he did. In fact, it was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson that Harry had had in a long time. Amazingly, by the end of the class, he felt like he’d actually learnt something, even though it galled to admit that Snape might have taught him anything. 

Having Snape leave him alone and generally pretending he didn’t exist was great, but it was too good to last long. At the end of the class, just as everyone began packing up, Snape finally acknowledged his presence. 

“Potter! Stay behind!” Snape barked out as everyone packed up their things and began to leave. Harry stared longingly at the classroom door, but it swung shut behind the last person, leaving him alone with Snape and the man’s delicious alpha scent. “Do you suppose that you have learnt everything that Hogwarts has to teach you? Is the great Harry Potter so far above everyone else? Are you so arrogant that you no longer feel the need to attend classes?” Harry looked up at him in confusion. Snape could have told him to stay behind for any number of perceived faults, but Harry had no idea what Snape was talking about.

”What?” Harry asked, the question slipping out in his surprise. Strangely, Snape didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to berate him for being disrespectful. 

“Professor Flitwick informed me that you were too ill to stay in his class, and yet Madam Pomfrey had no memory of your presence this morning, Potter. Do you regularly leave classes that you are too stupid to understand? I must say, I am surprised that you have never tried to slink out of a Potions lesson.” 

Harry stared at him, dumb with shock. Snape, who barely looked at Harry except to sneer at him, had apparently been paying him more attention than his own Head of House; than any other teacher ever had. Harry snorted to himself, of course it was just his luck that the one adult who actually kept track of what he did would only bother so that he could yell at him. 

“I was sick.” Harry said sullenly. Remembering what little he had learnt from Snape’s Occlumency lessons, Harry avoided Snape’s eyes so that the man couldn’t use Legilimency on him. Instead, he looked steadfastly at Snape’s chin. The man let out a derisive noise and it took all of Harry’s willpower not to look up and glare at Snape properly. 

“Indeed, and yet your illness was mysteriously cured as soon as you were away from your lessons. Tell me, then, about this strange new malady.” Harry shut his mouth with an audible click. “Nothing to say?” Snape sneered. ”What happened in the Headmaster’s Office changes nothing. Do you understand? Nothing! You will not disrupt my class again. There will be no favouritism!”

Harry’s jaw dropped; he was completely gobsmacked. Snape did nothing but show favouritism to his precious Slytherins. Harry had never expected to see any of that favouritism himself. Obviously the only thing that had changed between them was the bond, but Harry would never expect favouritism because of that. The bond between them was just part of the war effort, it didn’t have any real meaning. 

“Yes, sir, can I go now?”

Snape’s eyes glittered malevolently but he gave Harry a curt nod. Harry ducked his head and practically ran from the room. He couldn’t ever remember anyone, apart from Ron and Hermione, keeping such a close eye on him. Just his luck that it was Snape who had found out that he’d missed half of Charms, and then actually checked with Pomfrey to see if he’d gone to the Hospital Wing. Even if he had only yelled at Harry, and not given him detention or even docked House points, he was still a git. 

Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the corridor. Neither of them seemed particularly surprised that Snape had held him back. 

“What did Snape want?” Ron asked with a commiserating expression. Harry shrugged. 

“I dunno, something about not respecting him enough, I wasn’t listening,” Harry lied, it was rather uncomfortable to think that Snape had been checking up on him, and he didn’t want to dwell on it. Hermione, who probably thought that Snape had a point about him being disrespectful, gave him a sharp look. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for keeping so much from his friends. They were always so good to him, worried about him, followed him into dangerous situations, and yet he wasn’t being completely honest with them. Harry tried not to think about it, and instead tried to do something that Hermione would like. 

“Do you want to go to the library?” Harry asked tentatively, giving Hermione a small smile, “We could start our homework.”

Ron groaned but Hermione looked pleased. As they set off through the castle, Harry tried not to think about how his friends would react when they eventually found out about all the things that Harry wasn’t telling them. Harry was so busy worrying about it that he didn’t notice that he had fallen slightly behind his friends until he walked, head first, into a Fourth Year Ravenclaw. 

“Oh, sorry,” Harry muttered, as he tried to move past the boy. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” the boy hissed and Harry caught a strange smell in the air. It wasn’t strong at all but it reminded Harry of the stuff that Aunt Petunia used to clean her windows. Harry had to stop himself from scrunching his nose, he hated that smell. It always reminded him of being young and made to do endless, mindless chores, while he listened to Dudley bellowing with laughter as he sat in front a blaring TV. 

The Ravenclaw boy stood in front of him, blocking his way and looking like he wanted to hit Harry. 

“You know you’re not supposed to come this way. This is Ravenclaw territory.”

“What?” Harry asked, to surprised to be anything but bemused by the Ravenclaw’s apparent anger. 

“You heard me,” the boy said, his voice so low that it sounded more like a growl than a sentence. 

“Everything alright, Harry?” Ron yelled from the end of the corridor where he and Hermione were watching the exchange with amusement. 

“Yeah,” Harry called back as he stepped round the Ravenclaw, “Everything’s fine.”

The Ravenclaw made another low noise in his throat but Harry didn’t turn around. He didn’t like that sound; it wasn’t human and yet it made his stomach flutter in a way that he’d always associated with fear. Now, he wasn’t sure that feeling was always fear.

“Who was that?” Hermione asked when he caught up with his friends. 

“Him? I don’t know his name, I just bumped into him and he got all weird,” Harry answered. It wasn’t the complete truth but it was close enough to the truth that he didn’t feel guilty. Oddly, he saw Ron nodding knowingly. 

“I’m not surprised. I think he’s one of the Harper kids. My Mum is, oh, something like his Dad’s maternal cousin once removed, or, well, something like that. My Mum said the Harpers are a bit Dark, I’ve never actually spoken to him. I remember when he got Sorted and I was surprised he didn’t get into Slytherin, like the one in our year.”

“Ron!” Hermione said sharply, “That’s awful! I didn’t know you had other relatives at Hogwarts! Why haven’t you tried to be nice to him! You can’t just dismiss him, just because your parents disapprove of his parents.” 

“It’s not like that!” Ron said heatedly, “But all Pureblood families are related, I mean technically I’m related to Malfoy, _distantly,_ and I’m not going to go up to him and welcome him to the family. I’m just saying that that might explain why he’s a little strange.”

Hermione huffed angrily and walked a bit faster so that she was quickly storming along the corridor in front of them. Ron turned to Harry beseechingly. 

“You know what I mean, don’t you?” he asked Harry. Really, Harry couldn’t imagine having a family, having any magical relatives and just ignoring them. But Ron looked so upset that he couldn’t say anything negative. 

“Yeah, course I understand, Ron,” Harry bumped his shoulder against Ron’s, “I think Hermione’s just surprised that you never mentioned it before. I mean, I get why, but in the Muggle world things are a bit different.” Harry shrugged and shot Ron a reassuring grin, “She’ll calm down in a bit. Especially, if she sees us doing homework in the library.”

“Yeah,” Ron said, letting out a relieved breath. “You’re right, she loves it when I do my homework.”

The two of them made their way to the library and found a place to sit near Hermione. She glanced up and glared at Ron as they sat down. Harry pulled out his parchment as Ron went in search of books. 

Harry stared at the blank parchment in front of him. There was so much to think about. Dumbledore had told him that he had had to become an omega quickly, before Voldemort had the chance to look into his mind and learn about Harry being a Horcrux. But he was sure that he was missing a lot of vital information, there had to be more to learn about being an omega, yet his encounter with the younger Ravenclaw had made him realise that he also needed to know about what being an alpha was like. That boy had been an alpha and he’d seemed weirdly territorial. Were all alphas like that, or was Harper just a little strange, as Ron had suggested?

Harry suspected it was an alpha trait; he hadn’t expected alphas to be so aggressive and confrontational. It would have been nice to have had more warning. Perhaps, Dumbledore hadn’t known that it would be like this? After all, he wasn’t an alpha himself. At least Snape wasn’t being any worse than normal, if anything he was being _less_ confrontational than normal; even though he’d made Harry stay behind, he hadn’t yelled at him at all during the actual class.

Ron returned to their table with a stack of books and Harry picked one at random. He opened it up and continued thinking, without reading a word of the book in front of him. He’d accepted Dumbledore’s word that it was necessary to keep it a secret that he was now an omega, but the more he thought about it, the less sure he understood why it was important. 

Maybe, if all alphas were this aggressive normally, then they would become even crazier if they found out that there was an omega around. He would have to ask Dumbledore if that was the reason for all the secrecy.

It would be strange, Harry thought, to be an alpha and know that there weren’t anymore omegas left in the world. Dumbledore had kind of made it sound like alphas and omegas were couples, like men and women nowadays. Harry gasped as he realised something else. If alphas and omegas were couples, then was there more meaning to the bond between him and Snape?

Harry’s quill snapped in his hand. He wished that there had been more time for explanations before he’d drunk that black potion; he wished he hadn’t been so tired afterwards that he’d practically fallen asleep in the Headmaster’s office and not been able to think of any of these questions. 

“Psst, Harry, do you think I should ask Hermione to explain Stubble’s Second Razor? McGonagall said this was simple, but I don’t get it all, do you?”

“Erm, no,” Harry said, startled out of his thoughts. “I don’t get it. Do you have a spare quill? I’ve broken this one.”

Ron gave him a sympathetic look and then shuffled his chair closer to Harry.

“Oi, so, er, I was thinking,” Ron whispered, licking his lips nervously as he leaned even closer to Harry. “About earlier and you were worried about Dragon Pox, right?”

“Yeah?” Harry frowned; his friend looked genuinely concerned.

“Well, you know, what with you being raised by Muggles, I realised you might not know about...about,” Ron blushed, his face turning redder and redder by the second. “About Wizarding diseases. That, that only wizards get.”

“Oh,” Harry exclaimed. He looked around furtively to make sure that no-one could hear them. Ron must have realised that it was his crotch that had been so painful earlier. It would have been mortifying, but Harry was too desperate for information to care. “Are there diseases _like that_?”

Ron nodded fearfully.

“Sailor’s Tentacle,” he whispered. 

“Sailor’s - “ Harry repeated loudly. 

“Shh!” Ron whispered furiously, grabbing Harry’s arm as if that would make him shut up more quickly. “Not so loud! It’s when your privates,” Ron gulped dramatically, “They turn into a barnacle.”

Harry stared at his friend. He looked like he was being serious, in fact he looked scared. 

“I...Are you sure? I mean, this isn’t something the twins told you as a prank?”

Ron shook his head emphatically. 

“I had a great-uncle who caught it off a merman. Dad told me about it when I was a kid. He told me that there was nothing they could do...It was just...gone. He had to go for a swim in the sea every day, so the barnacle didn’t dry out.”

Harry stifled a giggle.

“It’s true! My Dad wouldn’t lie about something like that!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just, it’s pretty strange sounding. I mean, why a barnacle?”

Ron shrugged, looking rather offended as he sat back in his chair. 

“Plus, I haven’t been anywhere near the merpeople in ages! Not seen the Triwizard Tournament. And it was just a bit painful, but nothing, you know, looked any different,” Harry said happily. Even if he hadn’t meant to, Ron had cheered him up. He should have known that any Wizarding disease would be nothing so subtle as a little bit of pain and hair loss. He’d definitely been over-reacting; Madam Pomfrey would have probably laughed at him if he’d actually gone up to the Hospital Wing just to tell her that his crotch hurt a bit.

* * *

“You coming to breakfast, Harry?” Ron called on his way out of the boy’s dormitory.

“Yeah, I’m right behind you!” Harry yelled back, stuffing the Marauder’s Map back into his trunk. 

He was sure that Malfoy was up to something, but, despite all his attempts to persuade his friends, neither Ron nor Hermione would agree with him. He knew that Malfoy was in the Room of Requirement, but he hadn’t been able to work out a way to get in and catch him at it yet. So far, this morning, Malfoy hadn’t done anything more interesting that lounge about in the Slytherin Common Room with Crabbe. 

Harry was halfway to the Common Room before he realised he’d forgotten his text book for his first class. He hurried back to the dorm and pulled the Prince’s book out from under his pillow. He’d been reading it in bed last night. It had become a habit of his to fall asleep perusing the Prince’s notes, giggling at the unknown boy’s acerbic comments. 

Ron and Hermione were already sitting down in the Great Hall by the time that Harry caught up with them. Malfoy was there too and Harry watched him closely from across the Hall. It looked like Crabbe and Malfoy were in the middle of a heated argument, but neither of them were talking loudly enough to hear what they were actually saying.

“I’m glad we don’t have Snape for Potions anymore,” Hermione said with a disapproving sigh. Ron snorted loudly. “I mean, just look at that.” She jutted her chin to point at the High Table. Snape was staring down at the Slytherin Table with a look of hatred twisting his face. Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen that look directed at anyone other than him; certainly not at a Slytherin. 

Suddenly Snape turned and looked directly at Harry, his face blotchy with fury. Harry ducked his head and took a sip of the tea that Hermione had just poured for him. 

“Yeah, Slughorn’s much better anyway.”

“Hmm. You know, if Snape was still teaching Potions then he would have found out about the Prince’s book by now and - “

“Aww, come on, Hermione,” Ron broke in, “Give it a rest. It’s too early to be talking about this.”

“Well!” Hermione said tightly, standing up quickly, “It’s not too early for me to get to class. Some of us have to actually study, rather than just copying off other people.”

“Hermione! That’s not - ” Ron called after her, but Hermione was already stalking away, “What I meant,” he finished in a mutter. Ron gave an exasperated little sigh and stood up too. “We’d better get going,” Ron said, grabbing a piece of toast and looking wistfully at his half-eaten breakfast. Harry nodded, looking round for one last look at Snape before he left the Great Hall; but his professor was already gone. 

As the day progressed Harry lost himself in his lessons. Despite everything, learning he was a Horcrux, becoming an omega, his health scare, he felt calmer than he ever had. It was easier to concentrate in class and he found himself actually enjoying his studies. Slughorn even chastised him for humming as he stirred his potion that morning. 

Perhaps being a Horcrux had affected his whole personality. It was a scary thought but at least it was tempered with the knowledge that he no longer was one, and that Dumbledore was tracking down the other Horcruxes, which mean that Voldemort would be defeated. He couldn’t imagine Dumbledore not succeeding at anything he set his mind to. 

He still kept an eye on Malfoy, regularly checking the Marauder’s Map to see where he was; once he even slipped away from his friends and tried to get into the Room of Requirement while Malfoy was inside, but he gave up almost immediately. It was still important to find out what the obnoxious boy was plotting, but Harry felt less obsessed by it now; it wasn’t the compulsion that it had been before. Instead, Harry turned his attention to the upcoming Quidditch match. Gryffindor were so close to winning the Quidditch Cup, they only had to beat Ravenclaw in their last game of the year in a week’s time. 

“Detention, Potter, tonight. My office. Eight o’clock. Don’t be late.”

Harry looked up startled. 

“But, but I didn’t do anything, sir!” he argued. The last few Defense lessons had been weirdly peaceful for Harry. Snape ignored him so completely that he’d become accustomed to not really paying attention to what Snape was actually saying. 

“Precisely, Mr Potter. You never _do_ anything, do you?” Snape sneered, showing his yellowing teeth and making Harry shiver as he remembered what those teeth looked like stained with his blood. “Now, would you care to continue arguing? I’m sure we can make it two detentions.”

On the other side of the classroom, Malfoy guffawed loudly, but Harry just shook his head mutely.

“In that case, maybe the great Harry Potter might stoop to _opening his text book.”_

Harry glared at Snape and opened his book loudly, slamming the front cover into his desk. He looked up angrily, expecting to see Snape still sneering down at him, but the man had bent down so that his face was right next to Harry. 

"I have had quite enough of your behaviour. This ends tonight, Potter!”

Harry scowled back at him and resisted the urge respond with some angry retort. Instead, he lowered his head and resolutely ignored the man and how strong his scent was now that they were so close. He stared down at his book angrily, his eyes fixed on the page but he didn’t move until he heard Snape gliding away a few seconds later.

* * *

The dungeons felt darker than ever as Harry made his way down to Snape’s office. It shouldn’t be any surprise that someone as foul as Snape would prefer the dank and dreary dungeons, rather than the airy office that the rest of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers had used. 

He knocked smartly on the door and it swung open for him. 

“Get in here, Potter,” Snape yelled from behind his desk. His dark eyes were slitted as he watched Harry close the door and stand, waiting for Snape to tell him what he would have to do in tonight’s detention. Harry had stopped being nervous of Snape long ago, but he could still admit to being unnerved by him, especially when his vicious anger was in full flow.

“Do you realise what would happen if the bond between us failed, Potter?” his sharp voice cutting through the air like scissors through silk. 

“I didn’t know that it could, sir,” Harry said in surprise. Snape scowled, looking like he thought Harry was lying. 

“It can, and you are in very real danger of causing just that.” He tapped his fingers on the desk. Only Snape could convey so much annoyance with such a simple gesture. “You cannot bond with another, no matter how hard you try. Malfoy will never want you, you know.”

“W-what?” Harry’s mouth fell open, “What are you talking about?” He was too surprised to pretend to be respectful. 

“Don’t play so coy. The Headmaster told you why we had to bond and you acquiesced. There is no going back on it now, just because you have cold feet.”

“He said we had to bond,” Harry yelped indignantly, “So that other alphas wouldn’t be able to sense that I’d changed.”

Snape snorted inelegantly and his eyes narrowed even further.

“And what else, Potter? What else did our Headmaster tell you?” Snape said, sneeringly, although Harry had no idea what he could mean. He had a vague feeling that the Headmaster hadn’t told him something dreadfully important, but he hated admitting anything to Snape. 

“That it had to be you, because you’re already in the Order.”

Snape’s fingers stopped tapping on his desk and he looked at Harry with an oddly contemplative look. Harry squirmed uncomfortably, he preferred the angry expression on Snape’s face. At least that was familiar. 

“Aren’t you angry, Potter, to be put into this position, with so little information, and even less choice?”

He shrugged. This was probably the least confrontational conversation he’d ever had with Snape and it was making him more uncomfortable than he’d ever been when the man was just yelling at him. 

“Tell me about the nature of the bond, as you understand it,” Snape commanded, leaning forward, his intense stare not wavering. 

“I already told you, it’s so that the other alphas can’t, erm, _smell_ any difference in me,” Harry glared at Snape defiantly but, just then, he felt something that might have been the subtle brush of Legilimency. He wasn’t sure that it really was Legilimency; he wasn’t cast into his memories and forced to view them as Snape viewed them, instead it felt like a gentle warmth at the back of mind. He looked away quickly, just in case Snape was using Legilimency on him. 

Snape didn’t say anything, and Harry wasn’t about to willingly keep on talking to the man, so they fell into a heavy silence. Harry tried not to fidget, wishing that Snape would stop wanting to talk and just tell him what disgusting potion’s ingredient he’d have to deal with in his detention. Eventually, after a few long seconds had passed, Harry glanced up to see that Snape was still staring at him, but now one of his long, pale fingers was tracing his lips. Harry watched that finger as it moved slowly, making Snape’s thin lips crinkle slightly. It made him feel a little dirty, like he was intruding on something private, but he didn’t look away.

“The bond between alpha and omega is not as insignificant as you have been led to believe,” Snape paused and Harry felt himself blench. He’d hated the thought that there would be any link between the two of them, and now Snape was telling him that there was more to it than just that one bite. “And while the bond is impossible to break, it can fail.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Harry asked. Snape’s lips tightened and the skin around his eye twitched, giving Harry the distinct impression that the man was trying to restrain his anger. The idea that Snape would try and control his temper, rather than just lambast Harry with his usual vitriol was amazing; the man had never attempted to restrain himself around Harry before. Whatever Snape was trying to tell him had to be very important. “Isn’t that the same thing, sir?” Harry repeated more respectfully. 

“No,” Snape bit out and Harry was reminded of their Occlumency lessons and how Snape had told him that it was Harry’s inability to make fine distinctions between things which made him such a lamentable potioneer. He supposed there was a fine distinction between breaking a bond and it failing. It sounded like the same thing to him, but Snape didn’t comment or make any demeaning remark. 

“There is an emotional component to the bond - 

“But you hate me,” Harry interrupted, “sir,” he added belatedly when Snape raised an eyebrow. 

“Hmm, whilst I was not pleased to be forced into this situation, I am willing to do what is necessary. Are you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Snape regarded him for another few seconds and then his lips twisted and Harry realised that the man was _smiling_. He was smiling at Harry. It wasn’t a nice smile, in fact it looked rather predatory. Harry felt himself thinking almost longingly of all those detentions he’d spent handling Flobberworms and not having to talk to Snape. 

“The bond will fail if you become too close to another alpha. You have,” Snape stopped himself, looking like he was swallowing something sour, “You have not been subtle in your pursuit of Mr Malfoy.”

“My pursuit!? It’s not like that!” The way Snape said it made it sound like he fancied Malfoy, which was ridiculous. “I overheard you! After Slughorn’s party, he’s up to something and you’re helping him - “

“Enough!” Snape yelled, half standing out of his chair before glaring hatefully and slowly lowering himself back into his chair. “You, of all people, must understand that we are at war. In such times as these, we must cling to our secrecy. Mr Malfoy’s plans are of no concern of yours and your obsession with Malfoy will cease.”

Harry glared mutinously and didn’t say anything. 

“As undoubtedly distasteful as we will both find this, we must set our personal feelings aside. The bond between us is weak and in need of strengthening. We must strive for a certain,” Snape paused, his face blank, “Understanding, between you and I.”

“You want us to be friends, sir?” Harry couldn’t keep the amazement out of his voice. Snape scowled, to Harry’s amazement, it only lasted a few seconds and then Snape gave a curt nod. 

“Take off your school robes, and that jumper, and come and sit next to me,” Snape commanded. Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Snape was already pulling off his black teaching robe. Underneath it he was wearing a white shirt with billowy sleeves and a tight black waist coat. It gave him the appearance of a hero from some Victorian story. Harry turned away and pulled off his own robe. Snape was hardly anyone’s idea of a hero. 

“And the jumper,” Snape sniped as Harry clutched his school robe, not knowing where to put it down. He dropped it on Snape’s desk and was surprised that the man didn’t make any sarcastic comment about him being so messy. Harry pulled off his jumper, so that he was in just his shirt and trousers. His shirt was a mess; it was horribly wrinkled and it wasn’t tucked into his trousers. He was expecting Snape to deduct House points for being so scruffy, but the man was oddly silent. 

Harry waited for any sort of scathing comment, but nothing was forthcoming so he took a cautious step towards the chair that had appeared behind Snape’s desk, right next to him. He must have conjured it while Harry had been pulling off his jumper, because he was sure it hadn’t been there a moment ago. There was a perfectly good chair in front of Snape’s desk, and Harry was half tempted to sit there instead. He didn’t want to be that close to Snape and it was just second nature to him to be suspicious of Snape’s newfound good will. 

Finally, he sat down next to the Potions Master. This close he could see that the man’s usually greasy hair wasn’t sticking together in clumps like it always did. In fact, it looked smooth and almost healthy. It was, actually, surprisingly nice hair, which was a disturbing thought. Ron would laugh at him if he ever told him that. 

“In light of our new entente, it would be better if we referred to each by our first names. You may call me Severus, although, obviously, only when we are in the privacy of this office. “

Harry gaped at him. 

“But, but you’re my teacher. “

“I am aware of that. However, you fail to comprehend the severity of the situation. If our bond fails then you will be discovered. We should consider our new understanding to be a necessary part of the war effort. You will pay me as much attention as I’m sure you lavish on the Headmaster during your secret meetings. This is to be treated just as seriously.”

Harry scoffed quietly but didn’t say anything. He doubted that being nice to Snape was as important as the search for Horcruxes. 

“Alright...Severus,” Harry said awkwardly. The word felt wrong in his mouth, there were too many syllables and he felt slightly stupid saying it. He half-expected Snape to laugh at him, or say something cruel about mispronouncing it. 

“Harry,” Snape replied. That sounded even stranger, “Now, I want you to hold my hand -”

“Why?” Harry interrupted bluntly. Snape looked like he was about to lose the shaky control he had over his temper, so Harry carried on hurriedly. “I mean, I never held hands with Ron or Hermione. I understand why it would be a good idea to use our first names. But…” Harry bit his lip. He suspected it would hurt their attempt at friendship if he started telling Snape how the idea of willingly touching the man made him feel a little queasy. 

Luckily, Snape didn’t seem to be as angry as he’d first appeared.

“Po - Harry, the clasping of hands is fraught with magical symbolism. It is a sign of both trust and confidence. Our attempt at _friendship_ must, by necessity, be expedited, and this will achieve that.”

Harry grimaced slightly, trying to smooth his features as soon as he realised what he was doing. He supposed that made sense. It wasn’t like Snape could have any ulterior motives for wanting to hold his hand. The man had already said that this would be distasteful for both of them. Well, if Snape could do this, then so could he.

“Alright then.”

Slowly and very deliberately, Snape brought his hand up and rested it on the table between the two of them. Harry knew exactly what Snape’s hands looked like. He’d spent enough Potions lessons watching them, he knew the man had long, pale fingers that didn’t shake or hesitate, no matter how vile the potions ingredient they touched. But knowing exactly what they looked like was very different to actually touching them. 

Snape’s hand lay, palm up, on the desk. There were a few discolorations around the fingertips that Harry assumed were stains left over from handling some disgusting ingredient. 

He reached forward and touched Snape’s hand with his fingertips. It was such a small gesture, but it felt momentous. Surprisingly, Snape’s hand didn’t close around him and try to grab onto him. 

Harry moved his fingers up, tracing the bones in Snape’s fingers and then, with a burst of courage, he interlaced their fingers so that they were holding hands properly. 

Glancing at Snape, he realised that this wasn’t easy for him either. He was staring down at their joined hands as if it was the most shocking thing he’d ever seen. 

For all their supposed new friendship, Harry had nothing to say to the man. It wasn’t like they had ever actually had a conversation, aside from one of them yelling at the other. So he sat in silence. Oddly, it didn’t feel particularly uncomfortable. He didn’t think he’d want to do this with Ron or Hermione, but he understood what Snape had meant about the symbolism. He did feel a little better disposed towards the man now. Maybe it was because he hadn’t thought it was possible for Snape to be in his presence for so long without finding a fault with him, rather than the hand holding itself.

Five long minutes later, Snape gave a small cough.

“Very well, that will be all for tonight. I expect you back here on Saturday morning, at nine o’clock promptly.”

Harry released the man’s hand. He opened his mouth to protest the intrusion into his life, but then Snape hadn’t actually given him a detention. This was part of the war effort and Harry wasn’t going to botch that.

“Yes, s...Severus,” Harry said, trying not to grin. It felt so disrespectful to call Snape that, but the man couldn’t dock points because he’d told Harry to call him Severus. Astonishingly, Snape didn’t look in the least annoyed. 

“That will be all for tonight, Harry. Return to your Common Room, and no detours.”

Harry turned and fled without saying good-bye.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was half way back to the Gryffindor Common Room before he slowed down. Snape might have told to go straight there, but when had he ever listened to him? He turned around, and went in search of someone he could talk to. Dumbledore always said that he should come and talk to him if he ever needed to, but now he was standing here, in front of the the gargoyle, he had no idea how to get into the man’s office.

“Erm.. Cockroach Clusters?”

The gargoyle remained resolutely solid and unmoving. Harry sighed in frustration, he could be there all night if he had to list every kind of Magical sweetie.

“Chocolate Frog. Puking Pastille. Sugar Quills. Ice Mice. Fizzing Whizzbees. Argh! Can I please - “ Harry’s frustrated yell broke off as the gargoyle started to move to the side, revealing the colourfully dressed figure of Albus Dumbledore. He was wearing a bright yellow dressing gown and there was a sparkly purple night cap on his head. He’d clearly just got out of bed. Harry hesitated, unsure of himself. He hadn’t even thought about it, but he supposed it must be quite late. 

“Harry! What a delightful surprise!” Dumbledore smiled, “Do come up, we can have some hot cocoa, you look like you’re in need of it.”

Harry nodded and followed the Headmaster up the stairs. He hadn’t thought this through properly, he’d come running to Dumbledore but he wasn’t sure he knew how to say the things he wanted to.

Dumbledore settled himself behind his desk and gestured to Harry to sit down in a comfy armchair.

“Hmm. What was I thinking? Oh, yes, hot cocoa and pumpkin pasties. At my age I have so few excuses to have a proper midnight feast, but I think the occasion calls for it. Don’t you, Harry?”

Without waiting for his answer, Dumbledore tapped on the desk and a tray of food and drinks appeared. One of the cups of cocoa floated towards Harry and he plucked it out of the air. It was steaming and looked far too hot to drink. He looked down at it sadly. He was regretting coming here. Dumbledore might be able to Summon drinks but he couldn’t wave his wand and magically solve all Harry’s problems. 

“It’s good to see you. You’re looking remarkably healthy. How are you adjusting?”

“I’m fine, sir,” Harry smiled tightly. He was fine. He was glad that Voldemort wasn’t in his head anymore; especially now that he knew how much being a Horcrux had been affecting him. But being an omega, and the bond with Snape, was confusing and he wanted to talk to someone about it. 

Dumbledore had said that becoming an omega might mean some physical changes, surely that didn’t include what had happened in Charms. He couldn’t tell Dumbledore about that! The man was over a hundred. Harry couldn’t start talking about _those_ sort of things in front of him.

“You said before that I might... that they might be physical changes. Is there anything I should look out for, sir?” Harry asked delicately. 

“I’m afraid that I cannot give you the exact details. However, I don’t think that there will be anything painful, certainly nothing that you should worry about, Harry.”

Harry nodded unhappily, too embarrassed to say anything else. 

“Snape,” he paused, waiting for the Headmaster to correct him, but the old man remained silent, “Snape said that if me and him don’t...he said,” Harry shuffled uncomfortably in the soft chair. Some of the hot cocoa spilled out of his cup and burned his hand. He flinched, trying not to spill any more of his hot drink. “He said that the bond can fail if we don’t...start being more amicable.”

Dumbledore nibbled the corner of a Pumpkin Pasty and regarded Harry thoughtfully. 

“I see,” Dumbledore said quietly and Harry thought he had surprised the older man, but he couldn’t be sure. 

“Do you think that’s true?”

“I cannot, in all honesty, tell you. My knowledge of omegas, and indeed the knowledge of everyone alive today, is rather limited. But, if I wanted to consult someone who did know, I would ask Severus.” 

_Severus._ Snape had told him to call him by his first name, but it seemed wrong to even think of a teacher by their first name. Harry felt himself blush slightly. 

“I have often wished that the two of you would get along better. It has always pained me that Severus was not able to set aside his hatred for your father to see you as your own person. I think, if he has decided that he is now capable of doing just that, then he must have a very strong motivation, wouldn’t you say, Harry?”

“Yeah, I suppose so, sir. It’s just strange. He asked me to call him Severus.”

“Did he now? Well, that is interesting,” Dumbledore stroked his beard pensively, “And, of course, you know that you can only call him that in private.”

“Yes, sir. It’s just so..odd. You don’t think he’s been Imperiused, do you?”

Dumbledore laughed merrily.

“No, I very much doubt that, although I can certainly check if it would make you more comfortable. Would it be so very bad, to have a less adversarial relationship with Severus?”

Harry took a sip of his drink and tried to straighten out his thoughts. This evening with Snape hadn’t been _bad_ , just weird. He supposed he could put up with weird, especially if it was necessary. 

“I didn’t expect that there would be so many alphas at Hogwarts, sir. Are they always so, so, angry all the time?”

Dumbledore gave a sad sigh and took a slurp of his hot chocolate. 

“I’ve always believed that everyone should be welcome here. There may be some who allow their natures to dictate their choices, but everyone should be given the chance to prove themselves. Don’t you agree?”

“I, yeah, I mean, I suppose so,” Harry said in confusion. He wasn’t sure that that really answered his question.

“Of course, if you have questions then you know who would be far better qualified at answering them than I?”

“Severus,” Harry said glumly. Dumbledore beamed at him and took a large bite of his pastry.

* * *

“Harry,” Snape said as soon as the door clicked shut. He’d spent so much of the previous day worrying, thinking about coming back to Snape’s office, and getting told off by his teachers for not paying attention. It was nice to come here and be enveloped by Snape’s scent, even if it did mean he had to deal with Snape acting so strangely. He supposed he should start thinking of him as Severus. 

“Severus,” Harry said, testing to see how the man would react. He was half expecting to get yelled at, but instead the dour man’s lips twitched to form what would be considered a small smile if it were on anyone else’s face. As it was, Harry stared in shock. The smile looked unnatural on Snape’s face, like seeing Dudley looking thoughtful. 

“Very good,” Snape nodded approvingly, “Now take off your school robes. I’ll have to transfigure your jumper into something less recognisable than Hogwarts school uniform.”

Luckily Snape didn’t make any comment about the fact that he was wearing school robes at the weekend. He hadn’t wanted to wear Dudley’s billowy cast-offs in front of Snape. 

He was wearing one of Dudley’s old school shirts on underneath his school jumper and which he hated, but at least it was hidden from view. He’d worn his school uniform so that Snape wouldn’t see the massive and very worn clothes that he usually wore over the weekend. Snape might be trying to be friendly, but turning up in those clothes would have been like waving a red flag at bull. Snape would have been merciless in his cruelty.

“Why?” Harry asked, even if he was struggling to get on better with Snape because of the bond, it was still disconcerting to see Snape behave like this. It made him feel horribly wrong footed, he wasn’t sure quite how he should treat the man. 

“We are going on an excursion.”

“You want me to leave Hogwarts?” Harry asked suspiciously as he took off his school robe and draped it over the back of a chair. He knew that Dumbledore trusted Snape, but he’d never been able to. What if Snape wanted to take him from the safety of Hogwarts and straight to Voldemort? Snape could do anything to him once they were away from Dumbledore’s protection. But at the same time, now they were alone and Harry was surrounded by Snape’s scent and it was terribly soothing; like sinking into a hot bath at the end of a long day, even if it was tempered by the smell of the pickled potions ingredients that lined the walls of Snape’s office. 

He didn’t want to be suspicious of Snape anymore. He’d always suspected him of being a traitor, and he’d always been wrong. Maybe, finally, he should learn his lesson, and trust the man. 

“Where are we going?” Harry said hurriedly, trying to hide the skepticism in his voice. He didn’t think he’d completely succeeded because Snape arched an eyebrow at him, although he refrained from any stinging remark. 

“To a Magical Market,” Snape answered, pulling his wand from his robes and pointing it at Harry. Before he had the chance to object, or even flinch, Harry felt his jumper transfiguring around him and when he looked down, he saw that it had become a tight brown waistcoat, similar in style to the black one that he could see Snape was wearing. The sleeves of Dudley’s shirt were exposed now, as well as the rips and stains that the house elves never managed to wash out. 

“I don’t think I should leave Hogwarts. I mean, its not - “ Harry began. Even if Snape wasn’t actually a traitor, it still galled to trust him. 

“I had no idea you were so concerned with obeying school rules. Although, in this particular instance, you are not breaking any rules. However, we shall be taking some precautions so that we are not recognised.” Snape waved his wand in Harry’s direction again and he felt a vague tingling on his face and scalp. “There. Unfortunately you’ll have to forgo the adoration of your fans for this trip, Pot- Harry.”

Harry bit back a retort. He was supposed to be trying to get on with Snape, with Severus, and he was going to make an effort; even if Snape seemed incapable of putting old grudges to rest. 

Snape turned his wand on himself and Harry watched in amazement as his face began to change. The man’s nose shrunk a little bit, and his lips looked a little fuller. At first glance, he still looked like Snape, but, Harry realised, if he saw Snape like this in the street, he’d merely think that he looked a lot like his Potions Master, without actually being him. Harry wondered what he looked like now, what Snape had transformed his face into, but there wasn’t a mirror in Snape’s office and he wasn’t about to ask Snape for help. 

“Come here, Harry. We’ll have to Floo there,” Snape commanded, throwing Floo powder into the fire. Instead of the usual green flames, the fire turned purple. Harry took a step backwards. Despite everything, he could try and get on with Snape, he could try and trust the man, but he didn’t like the way that the Floo flames looked different. Was that some secret Floo passage straight to Voldemort?

“Why does the Floo look different? I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what’s going on!”

“Stop being so ridiculous, boy,” Snape fumed, stalking towards him and grabbing his wrist. “Have all these years of Magical education been entirely wasted on you? This is an International Floo.” With that he pulled powerfully on Harry’s wrist and Harry was jerked forward, clean off his feet. For a brief second he was shocked that the slim professor was so strong, but then he was tumbling, head first into Snape’s chest, knocking Snape over so that they both fell into the fireplace. 

Snape yelled something inarticulately that Harry couldn’t quite make out, but it must have been the name of their destination because, suddenly, they were travelling. They spun through the Floo in a tangle of arms and legs. Harry’s face was still pressed against Snape’s chest and he didn’t pull away. Even though it was Snape, it was still reassuringly solid as he spun out of control. The spinning was making him feel sick and it seemed to be going on far, far longer than any Floo he’d been in before. He pressed his cheek harder into Snape’s chest as feelings of nausea overwhelmed him. If this went on much longer he was going to vomit all over the man. 

Finally, the Floo spat them out, but instead of crashing to the ground, as Harry often did whenever he had to use the Floo network, strong arms held onto him and gently lowered him to his feet. 

“You can let go now,” Harry muttered, embarrassed. Snape released him instantly, a strange glint in his eye. Harry stumbled backwards in his haste to move away from his teacher, but Snape reached out for him again, steadying him and making sure that Harry didn’t trip. “Thanks,” he muttered even more quietly. He didn’t think he’d ever thanked Snape for anything before and it felt strange to do so now, but the word slipped out before he could stop himself. 

Harry looked around and saw that they were in a small room that was lined entirely with fireplaces. There was a glass door at one end of the room, and through that he could see bright sunshine and blue sky. A wizard in an official looking uniform lounged against one of the fireplaces as he watched them curiously, his hat pulled down on his head at a jaunty angle. Strangely, when Harry looked back at Snape, the man was holding himself upright with an air of satisfaction that bordered on preening. 

“So, erm, where are we?”

“This,” Snape began, whipping around and striding away from him, “Is Arles.”

“I’ll? Aisle?” Harry asked in confusion as he hurried after Snape and outside onto a dusty narrow street. He took a few deep breaths and the nausea caused by the Floo ride receded. 

“Arles. We are in France. The Magical Market here is world renowned as you should- “ He stopped mid-sentence and Harry smirked behind his back. He was beginning to enjoy Snape’s attempts at being friendly, he was so clearly struggling to not make all his usual biting comments. “We shall get some breakfast and then go to the Market.”

Harry had to hurry to keep up with Snape, who strode through the streets as if he knew them well. It was weird to see the dungeon bat so at home in the bright sunshine. They passed a corner and the street opened up into a massive square that was completely crammed full of market stalls selling all kinds of magical things. It was amazing, although Harry realised in dismay, it was a Potions Market. There were stalls full of all kinds of things to do with Potions. Some stalls sold brightly coloured cauldrons; some stalls were laden with exotic plants, some of which were squirming alarming; there was one stall that sold only dried scales, ranging in colour from deepest black to vividly iridescent; others had trays of powders of every colour. Harry’s eyes widened and he looked around, trying to take everything in. 

Even though Harry wasn’t particularly interested in buying anything, it was still fascinating to see. But, best of all, he was surrounding by Magical folk and no-one recognised him. It was immensely freeing. He grinned happily. The bright sun and his new feeling of liberty made it seem like he was on holiday. Or what he thought a holiday felt like; the Dursleys had never taken him on their holidays. He didn’t even have a Muggle passport.

It felt good to breath in fresh air and be so completely away from his usual everyday life; it was almost enough to make him forget that he was there with Snape. He was half-tempted to give the man the slip and just wander away, but he rather liked the idea of food. Harry had picked at half a piece of toast in the Great Hall for breakfast before going to Snape’s office, but he’d been too worried about this morning’s meeting to do more than that and his empty stomach was gurgling unhappily.

Snape found them a table outside a cafe and glared at Harry until he sat down beside Snape. From here, he could still see the market, and he could watch as witches and wizards did their shopping. He wished he could understand what they were saying, he was sure it would be as interesting as whenever he eavesdropped on shoppers in Diagon Alley.

In the distance, towering over the roofs of the buildings at the other end of market, was something that Harry had never seen before. It looked like an ancient ruin made up of a series of stone arches, stacked on top of one another. 

He turned to ask Snape what it was, but Snape was talking to the waiter that had appeared and was ordering something in French. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the strange building was anyway, not if it meant talking to Snape. He sighed, this whole exercise was about trying to be friendlier to each other no matter how unnatural it felt. 

“What’s that thing over there?" Harry asked, pointing to the strange building as soon as the waiter had gone. Snape's lip twitched and Harry knew he was dying to sneer and say something demeaning about Harry’s intelligence. 

“It was built by the Wizards of Ancient Rome,” Snape spat out, glaring at Harry, who did his best to keep his face completely neutral. No matter how hard Snape was trying to be nice to him Harry knew the man would snap if he realised how much Harry wanted to laugh at him. Snape must have been fooled because he seemed to relax and began talking in the same tone that he used to teach his classes in, rather than the anger filled tone that he usually used when talking to Harry. “Roman Wizards travelled by Gateway Magic. It is a form of transport that has been entirely replaced by the Floo network. Gateway Magic requires far more magical strength from the traveller and, also, Gateway hubs such as this one. The Romans built them all over their Empire, although most Romans, and even modern muggles, believed the structures to be ampitheatres.”

Harry froze, listening to Snape talk. This felt far too much like a normal conversation. Snape’s explanation sounded like something that Hermione might tell him. He wasn’t sure he liked being this familiar with Snape and he had no idea how to react. 

“Oh,” Harry nodded, as Snape eyed him critically. If he were talking to Hermione he would have made some comment about how he’d never heard of Roman Wizards or Gateway Magic before, but this was Snape! The man didn’t need to be given an opportunity to mock Harry’s intelligence handed to him so easily. 

Snape didn’t seem to have anything else to say and Harry was almost scared to open his mouth. He fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to think of something to say to fill the silence. 

“You speak French,” Harry said. Immediately he wanted to smack himself. It was a stupid observation that he knew that Snape would sneer at. Amazingly the older man did not. Instead he pulled out a bottle of orange potion from his pocket and put it on the table in front of Harry. 

“I do not. I merely drank a Translation Elixir which enables me to speak and understand any language. Drink.”

Harry peered at the bottle without touching it. Just because the last potion of Snape’s hadn’t _technically_ poisoned him, did not mean that he trusted all of Snape’s potions now.

“How long does it last?”

Snape sighed. The man always expected unquestioning obedience and respect, just because he was Harry’s teacher, but it wasn’t like he deserved them. 

“Two days, perhaps three, if you drink all of it.”

“So I should just take a sip then?”

Snape nodded and then turned away from Harry, twisting so that he could see into the cafe. Without Snape watching his every move Harry relaxed and gave the bottle of potion a swirl. The liquid inside the glass moved very slowly, as if it were particularly viscous. It looked like it would taste horrible. Harry dithered, unsure of whether to drink it or not. He’d spent so long not trusting Snape, and he knew the man was up to something with Malfoy. He’d taken Harry from the safety of the school grounds and this would be the perfect place to attack him, away from Dumbledore’s watchful eye. But then Snape really was making an effort to be friendly. He’d hardly said anything insulting all morning, which had to be some kind of record. 

Harry unstoppered the cork and took a tiny sip. The potion sat heavily on his tongue, it was just as disgusting and viscous as Harry had suspected it would be. He swallowed loudly, trying not to screw up his face in disgust. It felt like he was swallowing a raw egg! That sip would have to do because he wasn’t going to drink anymore of it. 

“Misters, your breakfast. Excuse me,” the waiter interrupted as he appeared at their table and began to put various dishes down in front of Harry. Even though Harry could understand what the man was saying the words sounded odd and disjointed. Before Harry could give it too much thought the waiter put a large bowl of steaming hot chocolate down in front of him. It smelled delicious but Harry could only frown at it in confusion. Was he supposed to drink his hot chocolate with a spoon? Why wasn’t his drink in a cup?

The waiter continued to pile food onto their table. Harry recognised the French bread and croissants; though he’d never tried them himself he remembered that the Beauxbaton students used to be served them during the Triwizard Tournament. 

The waiter put a large bowl in front of Snape and Harry sat up straighter so that he could peer over at it; it was filled to the brim with coffee. Snape didn’t frown at it so Harry supposed that he must have been expecting his coffee to come like that. Harry grinned a little and then ducked his head so that Snape couldn’t see his amusement. There was no way that Snape was going to be able to drink out of that bowl without dipping his overly large nose into his coffee!

Harry grabbed a croissant from the basket of them that the waiter had put on the table. He wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do with it. There was butter, various types of jams and some slices of cooked meat on the table. Was he supposed to make a sandwich out of everything? He wished he’d paid more attention to how the Beauxbaton students used to eat. 

He blushed slightly. He knew he shouldn’t really care. After all, what did _Snape’s_ opinion of him matter anyway. 

Snape wasn’t even touching any of his food, instead he was just eyeing Harry blankly. He wished the older man would hurry up and _do_ something rather than just watching him like he was some sort of potion’s experiment.

“Not hungry, Potter? How un…” Snape’s silken voice cut through the bustling noises of the outdoor market and Harry shivered, knowing for sure that Snape had finally reached the end of his restraint. The man paused mid-word. The insult was held back, instead Snape picked up his bowl of coffee and took a long sip. 

Harry, relieved to see that he wasn’t going to have to drink his hot chocolate with a spoon, picked up his bowl and took a gulp. It felt rather naughty to drink hot chocolate so early in the day, but it was very good. Harry took another gulp. 

He was so busy drinking that he didn’t see if Snape had got any coffee on his nose. By the time he put his bowl down, Snape was back to staring at him, his lip trembling almost imperceptibly; Harry wondered if he was holding back some scathing comment about Harry being so messy and unrefined. Well, it was hardly his fault that he wasn’t from the same snooty Pureblood background as Snape was. 

Harry licked his top lip clean of chocolate, watching as Snape’s eyes traced the movement of his tongue and grinned to himself. For someone who had yelled so much about how Harry was unable to hide his emotions and wore his heart on his sleeve, Snape was being pretty obvious about how much he disliked him. Harry mentally shrugged, as long as the man kept his acerbic remarks to himself Harry didn’t care. 

“Tell me,” Snape began, his voice gentler than Harry had ever heard directed at him. “How is it that Harry Potter has never heard of Arles before?”

Snape’s words were mocking and Harry knew that the man was laughing at his ignorance, but his tone was so reassuring, and so mild, that Harry felt more confused than angry.

“I dunno, I mean it’s not like Hogwarts teaches Geography and my Aunt and Uncle were never big on me coming on holiday with them. And I don’t think they were really into, you know, learning about other cultures and things. They used to pack cans of baked beans to eat whilst they were away.” Harry shut his mouth, blushing. He knew better than to trust Snape, but there was something hypnotic about being the focus of Snape’s attention. He shrugged and picked up his hot chocolate and took another sip. 

By the time Harry put his bowl down, Snape was tearing up a croissant. 

“Your Aunt was always horribly narrow minded.” 

“You know my Aunt, sir?”

Snape grimaced. 

“Severus. You would be surprised to learn how closely guarded Privet Drive was. Most Members of the Order have spent enough time outside that wretched house that they feel personally acquainted with the inhabitants.” 

Harry made a face. He didn’t like the idea of Tonks’ happy exuberance, or the Weasley’s open hearted friendliness, having to witness his relatives or how they treated Harry.

“Hang on a minute, what do you mean, how guarded Privet Drive was? Aren’t I going back there?”

“It may not be necessary. Our bond may negate the need for the protection of the blood wards.”

“So, I could spend the summer at Grimmauld Place?” Harry asked excitedly. 

“It is a possibility, we would still have to spend the summer in each other’s company.”

“That’s fine,” Harry grinned, feeling a sudden wave of something akin to affection for the man opposite him. He’d spent so long hating this man, but sitting here now, in the bright sunshine, things felt different. He’d hated Snape when he was a child, but now he felt more mature, and he could see that Snape was just a man. He was more that just the vague figure of childish resentment that Harry had always thought of him as. He might not actually like the man, but he supposed he could respect him. 

“Here,” Snape said, breaking off a piece of French bread and putting it on Harry’s plate. “Baguette may be more to your tastes.”

If Harry hadn’t been so surprised by Snape’s odd behaviour he might have been offended. Snape pushed the butter and a pot of jam towards him. 

“I can feed myself, Professor.”

Snape looked down so that his hair hid in face; almost as if he were ashamed of his own actions, which seemed unlikely. Harry had never met anyone less likely to ever admit to being wrong. 

“And I am responsible for you. Just eat, boy.”

The rest of the meal progressed in silence. Harry did eat the bread that Snape had put on his plate, but only because it tasted delicious and he wasn’t going to let Snape’s odd behaviour spoil his meal. Sitting outside to eat was, Harry decided, a brilliant idea. The sun warmed him nicely and there was a cool breeze that stopped him from getting too hot. Now that he’d taken the Translation Elixir he could understand what everyone around him was saying. He didn’t listen in on any one particular conversation, but he caught snippets whenever shoppers walked past their table..

“I already told you that it was a bad year for grapes that fluorese. We’ll end up with transparent stomachs if you make wine from them,” an exasperated women told the young man she was with.

“I’ll pay that much for ginger root when hens will have teeth!” an old woman said angrily just as Harry was draining his bowl of hot chocolate. She sounded so utterly sincere that Harry had to try hard not to choke with laughter. Snape’s Translation Elixir was obviously not that great. The words might technically be English but everything sounded a bit off. All those times that Snape had made some cutting remark about how dreadful Harry’s potion making skills were, and yet Snape’s potions weren’t that great after all!

“Are you finished?” Snape said, putting a small pile of gold coins on to the table. Harry nodded and stood up. He hadn’t known to bring any money and he didn’t really like the idea of Snape paying for him. Just because he could never use his money in front of the Dursleys didn’t mean he was penniless and had to rely on the charity of others.

“You could have told me to bring some Galleons,” Harry said sullenly.

Snape stood up slowly. They were standing closer than Harry liked and he was uncomfortably reminded of how much taller than him Snape was

“That would hardly have proved useful. Galleons are not the currency of France, these are Ecu.”

Now that Harry knew they weren’t Galleons he realised that they did look different; smaller and a distinctly bloody shade of red gold. He shrugged. He was sure he could have exchanged some Galleons for Ecu if Snape had bothered to give him some warning. 

“Come, there is something I wish to buy,” Snape said, putting his hand on Harry’s shoulder and shoving him forward towards the Market. 

“Professor,” Harry said as Snape’s fingers dug into him painfully and he shrugged his shoulder, trying to get him to let go. 

“Severus!” Snape said, squeezing his fingers even more tightly before finally letting go. Harry gingerly touched his shoulder surprised that his clothes weren’t damp with blood, Snape’s squeeze had been so tight and so painful. “How many times must I tell you? Stay close, Harry!”

They walked passed all the colourful, interesting stalls that Harry had glimpsed at before. Snape didn’t stride as purposefully as he usually did so Harry could actually walk at a reasonable pace, rather than struggle to keep up with the long legged man. 

Snape grabbed his elbow to stop him in front of a stall that sold bunches of flowers. Harry knew enough about magic to realise that this was not a regular florist, but none of the flowers looked too crazy. They were all keeping fairly still and nothing was moving towards him of its own volition. 

“I want Arctic Saxifrage,” Snape demanded of the wizened old witch running the stall.

She gave him a wide smile, revealing that she was missing her two front teeth. 

“Do you have a preference for the colour, mister?”

Snape gave Harry an odd look, slowly looking down at his shoes and then back up again. Harry had the strangest feeling that he was being inspected and found lacking. 

“Yellow. Unicorn’s tears?”

“What quantity?”

“A dram.”

The witch's eyes lit up in delight and she chuckled merrily. 

“That’s an expensive item, mister, and I am the only stall in the Market that sells it. I cannot give it away.”

Harry fancied he could hear Snape actually growl in annoyance. 

“How much?”

“For a dram, five hundred Ecu.”

From the way that the witch was grinning Harry got the impression that five hundred Ecu was a lot of money. Rather than argue, Snape just pulled out a purse of coins and threw it at the woman. She caught it deftly and took a small glass bottle from the folds of her robe. She picked up a metal measuring jug and, opening the glass bottle, poured out a measure of unicorn tears.

“The flowers are there,” she said, jutting her chin, “Help yourself to a bunch. A gift, mister, for such a good customer. Would you like to buy a bottle for the tears?”

Snape shook his head angrily and picked up three tiny yellow flowers.

“That is not many, mister. This is very wise, it is not necessary to use many to feel always the cold.”

Snape grunted and took out his wand. Aiming it at the measuring jug, he began to murmur. The unicorn’s tears lifted out of the jug, magically floating up into the air and forming into a small ball. Snape floated it over to him and when it was close enough he pushed the three flowers into the sphere of clear liquid. The flowers hung, suspended, in the tears as Snape removed his fingers. Harry and the witch both watched in fascination as Snape muttered one last spell and the unicorn tears began to crystalise. When the sphere had become completely solid Snape plucked it from the air. 

“What beautiful magic, mister!” the witch cried out delightedly. Snape ignored her, but Harry secretly agreed. Snape took Harry’s shoulder in his hand and started marching away from the stall. They were nearing the edge of the Market when Harry realised with dismay that Snape was leading him out of the Market and back to the Floo station. The man wasn’t even going to explain what the strange crystal that he’d just made was about. 

“Wait! Can’t we stay here for a bit?” Harry asked, digging his feet into the cobblestones so that Snape was forced to pause.

Snape didn’t look as angry as Harry would have thought he would be. Instead of answering, Snape shoved the Unicon tear crystal into his hands. The stone was so cold that it burned his fingers. Harry hissed and shoved the stone into his waistcoat pocket.

“Careful, Potter! Harry. That stone will not be able to withstand your fumblings. It is a gift.”

“A gift, Professor?”

Snape eyes narrowed and he let out a small hiss although Harry wasn’t sure if it was because he’d forgotten to call the man by his first name or because he was so shocked that he’d given him a present. 

“I mean Severus.”

“A gift, _Harry_. This will always cool you in times of,” Snape paused and licked his lips. “Heat.”

“Huh. So, like, if I ever get burnt then it’ll help me?” Harry supposed that was useful. It seemed like an oddly specific gift, but he was rather touched. For all Snapes half-formed insults, the man was trying. 

“‘I’m sure you’ll be able to tell when the time is right. Omegas are notoriously susceptible to the heat.”

“So...If I get too hot this will help cool me down?”

But Snape didn’t answer, instead he wordlessly began to lead Harry in a different direction. As they moved though the Market the voices of the shoppers around Harry began to sound increasingly strange and he stopped being able to make out any conversations. Snape didn’t stop until they’d left the Market and he’d dragged them into a small shop. There were some clothes hung up on one wall, but most of the shop was taken up with bolts of fabric. Snape had brought him to a tailors! Harry blushed. He’d thought, when Snape hadn’t said anything about his baggy shirt, that the man hadn’t noticed how ludicrous he looked in Dudley’s old clothes. Obviously he’d been mistaken. 

A short man hurried out of the back of the shop and greeted them in rapid French. Harry didn’t understand a word of it and, when Snape spoke, the words came out as French as well. The tailor nodded happily and began to rummage through the pre-made clothes.

“Er, Severus? I don’t need any clothes, and I don’t have any Ecus anyway.”

“I intend to buy you a new shirt.”

Harry’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. He couldn’t believe that Snape was doing this

“I don’t think that’s necessary, sir. Severus.”

“Nonsense. This is what friends do for one another, is it not?”

“Well, its not like Ron and Hermione have ever bought me clothes,” Harry said tentatively. Except Mrs Weasley did send him jumpers, so maybe clothes were a normal gift from adults. Harry considered carefully; Snape was really trying to be friendlier but the man’s inner gittish-ness did keep shining through. Maybe by buying him gifts, and spending money on him, Snape was trying to get away with not actually being nice to Harry. Maybe he was trying to buy Harry’s friendship. That was the sort of Pureblood nonsense that he could see someone like Snape thinking was acceptable.

“If we are to spend any amount of time in each other’s company then I would prefer that you weren’t dressed as some sort of Muggle vagrant.” Snape pulled his lips into a smile that was so close to being a sneer that Harry wasn’t entirely sure which it was. What did he care if Snape wanted to throw his money at Harry? It wasn’t like he was proud of wearing Dudley’s clothes, if Snape wanted to get him new ones that was fine by him.

The tailor pushed a white shirt at Harry and said something in French. The Translation Elixir must have worn off completely because he couldn’t understand a word of it. 

Snape smiled at whatever the tailor had said. It was almost frightening. He didn’t think he’d ever seen an actual, genuine smile on Snape’s face. The tailor turned back to Harry and gave him an encouraging wink. He stepped back quickly, confused by the strange man’s behaviour. 

“Go and put that shirt on. You can wear it back to Hogwarts,” Snape told him, his smile fading as he looked at Harry. 

Harry took the shirt and went through to the changing room. He wished he’d taken more of Snape’s Translation Elixir. He didn’t like the way that the tailor had winked at him and he wanted to know just what exactly the man was saying to him. There was definitely something strange going on. He could hear the tailor nattering away at Snape but the usually surly man didn’t sound particularly angry. In fact, he seemed to be finding whatever the tailor was saying to be vastly amusing. Harry muttered a curse to himself as he undressed. 

The shirt felt soft against his skin. Harry was usually thankful that, even though he had to wear Dudley’s massively too big hand-me-down clothes, at least they tended to be well worn and soft. But, as he pulled this new shirt on, he realised how wrong he had been. This shirt felt positively luxurious. Harry did up the buttons slowly and then stroked the material with his fingertips. Nothing that felt this good could be cheap. He might let Snape buy him a shirt as a symbol of their attempt at being friends, but he refused to let the man spend too much money. He would not let Snape view him as a charity case. 

“How much does it cost?” Harry demanded as soon as he stepped back out into the shop. Snape smirked and raised an eyebrow. 

“Did you not drink enough Elixir for the entire morning? How unfortunate. Perhaps next time you should do as your told.”

“I did! And I don’t need you to buy me expensive clothes. If I wanted to dress like some Pureblood snob then I would!” Harry said through gritted teeth. He could barely restrain himself from continuing to stroke the soft fabric. 

“Of that, I have no doubt. However, neither your blood, nor your fame, are of any interest to me. The shirt is a gift and you will have the good grace to wear it. I don’t care how many presents your adoring fans shower you with.” Snape stepped towards him, the enclosed space meant that Harry was suddenly more aware of Snape’s intoxicating alpha scent than he’d been all morning. Snape looked like he was gearing up for a proper rant and Harry quickly interjected, trying to forestall him. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant...I mean, you don’t have to buy me anything else.” The words felt odd in his mouth. He couldn’t remember ever having to say that to anyone before. His Aunt and Uncle had never been particularly eager to buy things for him. In fact, Harry felt a bit weird saying this to Snape; it was surreal that he wanted to buy things for Harry in the first place. 

“I am aware,” Snape said abruptly as he turned away to deal with the tailor. “Put your waistcoat back on, we’re late.”

Harry scowled at Snape’s back. The man was always bossing him around! He ran his fingers along the sleeve of the shirt one last time before putting his waistcoat back on. He wasn’t used to getting presents and he wasn’t sure how he should treat Snape. Should he get Snape a present too? He had no idea what the man liked!

The journey back to Hogwarts was uneventful. The Floo trip took just as long but, as Harry knew what to expect this time, he didn’t find it as disconcerting. He didn’t cling to Snape either, even though the man was pressed closed to him in the narrow confine of the Floo. Somehow Snape managed to stop them spinning just before the Floo spat them out into his office. For the first time in his life Harry stepped smoothly out of a fireplace. 

“Well, I better get going,” Harry said, not sure what time it was. He wanted to get out of Snape’s office and away from the man as quickly as possible. He’d actually had a really good time in France. That thought was stranger and harder to deal with than anything else. He’d expected Snape to spew his usual vitriol; having a good time was just incomprehensible.

“Monday evening. Eight o’clock. I shall be expecting you to wear your new shirt.” 

“Er, alright..Severus.” 

“Harry,” Snape nodded. The way that Snape purred his name made Harry feel a little funny, even though Snape hadn’t done anything. Snape’s voice had always been deep but during this forced proximity to the man Harry had really noticed how low Snape’s voice was. 

Harry shook his head trying to clear it as he walked away from Snape’s office. So much had happened, it had been such a strange morning and all Harry really wanted to do was clear his head. He stopped, mid-stride, as the Fat Lady came in to sight. For all the things that Snape had given him, Harry hadn’t said thank you at all. Not for the breakfast or the stone or the shirt. He’d been just as ungrateful as Snape had always accused him of being. To be fair, he had been really flustered, but it was still very rude.

Harry put his head down and continued walking. He was going to have to thank Snape on Monday. 

“There you are, mate!” Ron called out as soon as Harry slipped into the Gryffindor Common Room. “I didn’t think you were ever going to get out of your detention!”

“Yeah,” Harry said dully, ”Look, do you want to go flying for a bit? We can practise some moves, what was that gambit you were talking about the other night? The thing that goalies do?”

“The Whittle Gambit, it’s practically foolproof, but only three Quidditch players have ever been able to successfully pull it off. The secret is to put a stretching charm on your elbows,” Ron grinned. “Sure, but we’ll have to sneak out. Hermione’s on the war path. Apparently she got a rune wrong on her Ancient Runes homework and Babbling gave her an A.”

“Oh.” Harry paused, glancing around. He felt oddly removed from everything and he couldn’t work up the energy to worry about Hermione’s anguish over her grade. 

“You wait outside and I’ll go up and grab our brooms, alright? Or do you you want to get changed?”

Snape hadn’t untransfigured his school jumper and the smart looking waistcoat wasn’t really ideal flying clothing. Plus he didn’t want to get his new shirt dirty. It was too nice to be worn except on special occasions. 

“I’ll come with you," Harry said and they headed up to the dorm. Harry put his new clothes away and put the Unicorn tear crystal in an old sock and tucked it into his trunk. He couldn’t imagine he’d ever use it. He didn’t feel like he was hotter now that he was a omega, but it was still a nice gift, even if it was too cold to touch. 

A few minutes later they were outside and Harry was laughing as he felt the rush of wind in his hair. Ron was practising his Whittle Gambit in front of the goals, it made him look like he was doing an odd sort of dance and it took all of Ron’s concentration. Harry didn’t mind, it gave him a chance to think. He kept on wondering about why he felt so strange and finally he realised something. He lived his entire life shuttled back and forth between Hogwarts and Privet Drive, with the occasional outing to Grimmauld Place or the Burrow or a few hours in Diagon Alley, but, in one morning, Snape had changed all that. He’d given him a taste of what it was like to travel, even if it was just a trip through a Floo. This morning he’d been sitting under a completely blue sky, drinking hot chocolate out of a bowl! And now he was back to reality.

Travel, Harry decided, was definitely a good thing. He could definitely get behind drinking hot chocolate for breakfast. The only problem was that it was _Snape_ who had shown him how fun it was to travel. 

Harry rode his broom in lazy circles, going slower and slower as he pondered. He’d spent the morning with Snape and, looking back on it, it had probably been the most fun he’d had in ages. It was a very odd feeling. 

“Harry! I’ve got it, Harry! Come on, try and score on me. I bet you anything you like you can’t!” Ron yelled up at him. Harry zoomed down, putting all thoughts of Snape from his mind. Tomorrow was Sunday and that meant an entire day without Snape, or even having to think about Snape and Harry was going to take full advantage.


	4. Chapter 4

Monday evening’s meeting began in much the same way as the first one had. Snape told him to take off his school robes and his jumper so that he was in just his new shirt and then directed him to sit down next to him so that they could hold hands again. This time it was slightly more comfortable, mostly because Harry knew what to expect. Snape’s hand curled round his own rather nicely and, if it had been anyone else other than Snape, Harry might have quite liked the feel of it. As it was, Harry felt less self-conscious and he looked around Snape’s office openly. 

As before, Snape was silent. It seemed like he was still overwhelmed by the strangeness of them holding hands. He was still staring at their joined hands after five minutes of sitting in silence and Harry was beginning to get bored. 

“I’ve been wondering,” Harry began. Snape clutched his hand as if he was worried that Harry was about to let go, his dark eyes boring into Harry. ”Why would it be so bad if others found out that I’m an omega? I mean, why did we have to bond _really?_ What would have happened if we hadn’t?”

He knew what Dumbledore had told him about alphas, but he wanted to have an actual alpha explain it to him. Snape gave a little sigh, as if it was entirely Harry’s fault that he wasn’t better informed. 

“There is very little information about omegas, or how they respond to alphas. Most knowledge has been lost in the mists of time. My own knowledge is based on rumour and gossip and the ramblings of an old alpha that I once knew. Of the many things he told me, most of which I suspect to be false, is that there was a way for an alpha to control his omega completely.”

“But, but you don’t really think thats true do you?” Harry said in horror, imagining what would happen if Snape really could control him. Although, if Dumbledore believed it to be true then it would make sense that he would have wanted to bond Harry to an alpha that he trusted as quickly as possible. He wouldn’t have risked an alpha who supported Voldemort biting him and bonding him and then forcing him to do Merlin-knows what. Harry shivered. If only Dumbledore had picked an alpha that Harry trusted as well. 

“I haven’t tried,” Snape said stiffly. 

“Did the alpha you knew tell you how it worked? Do you think it’s true? What does it mean, to have complete control over an omega? Do you know? Have you tried it?”

Snape’s grip on his hand loosened.

“It is unnecessary to attempt. Now that we are bonded you are no longer at risk.”

“No, but,” Harry spluttered. What if Snape was somehow already controlling him? What if he was making Harry like the way his scent smelled, or the way that Snape’s hand fit so comfortably around his own? He had to know what it felt like when Snape tried to control him, so that he knew if Snape ever tried it on him. “We should try. I mean, to see if it’s true, right? Like an experiment.”

“Foolish boy. If I wanted to control your every action, your every thought, I could. Your mind has always wide open to anyone with a passing knowledge of Legilimency.”

Harry’s hand jerked away from Snape. It wasn’t his fault that Snape was such a horrible teacher that he’d never learnt to Occlude. He thought of Sirius, who would still be alive if it weren’t for Snape and his constant goading of his godfather and his laughable Occlumency lessons.

“I think I should be going now, _Severus,_ ” Harry said as sarcastically as possible, it felt disrespectful to say the man’s name and this time Harry revelled in it. Snape didn’t deserve any respect. 

Snape snatched his hand up, holding onto it so that Harry was forced to stay sitting. 

“I think not. These meetings are meant to foster...goodwill. Surely even you can sit in silence for a few minutes?”

“Sit in silence? When you’ve just admitted that you could go into my mind and control my every thought?” Harry said bitterly.

“That is hardly my fault. You allowed yourself to become what you are now. I, as I usually must, was forced to step in and tidy up your mess.”

“You don’t…” Harry broke off, suddenly unsure of himself. Surely Dumbledore hadn’t told Snape about Horcruxes. But then, if he hadn’t, what reason had he given him for turning Harry into an omega? “You don’t know why I had to drink that potion, do you?”

Snape stilled. 

“I do.”

Harry gasped. He couldn’t bear the thought that anyone else would know that he had had Tom Riddle inside his head almost all his life. It felt so dirty, as if he was just as inhuman and disgusting as Tom purely by association. He was supposed to finally be free, but now he was learning that Snape had complete access to his head and could do anything he wanted with him. 

“Promise me, promise me you won’t ever attempt to control my thoughts, or this ends right now. I don’t care if the bond fails or whatever, I won’t come down here ever again and I’ll avoid you every day until the bond fails unless you promise me!”

Snape glowered half-heartedly.

“P - Harry, did you not hear me? I had no intention of even attempting to control your thoughts. I have no interest in what goes on in what passes for your brain.”

“Yeah? Then swear on your magic!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, boy,” Snape said, his voice only half mocking. “The bond is fragile enough without complicating it with unnecessary Oaths. However,” his voice took on a conciliatory tone that Harry hated at once. “However, I will promise you that I would never use the magic of the bond to manipulate you, unless it is necessary.”

Harry snorted. As promises went, that one sounded rubbish. Snape could break it at any time without consequence or even just if he thought the circumstances warranted it. By Snape’s standards that could mean anything. He might start controlling Harry so that he started spending more time on his homework, or he might make Harry think that it was a good idea to quit the Gryffindor Quidditch team so that Slytherin would have a better chance at winning the Cup. 

Harry sighed heavily. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in this position, having to be nice to Snape was awful, but he wasn’t sure how exactly he could have prevented it. After finding out he was Tom’s Horcrux one thing had led inexorably to the other, until finally he was sitting in Snape’s office, holding his hand and hoping that Snape was merciful enough to keep his measly promise to Harry.

“Fine,” Harry muttered numbly. He was too overwhelmed to even care. He just wanted to get this over with and then he was going to go up to his dorm and get an early night. 

“Perhaps, we are going about this the wrong way,” Snape said speculatively. “Perhaps…”

Snape stood up quickly, pulling Harry along with him. 

“Hurry up, Po - Harry. No, leave your school robe there.” Snape dragged him by the hand towards a door that Harry had assumed led to a supply cupboard. Snape muttered something and the door swung open without Snape even having to touch it. Behind the door was a rather comfortable looking sitting room, with a green leather sofa sitting in front of a roaring fire. The walls were lined with bookshelves and there were a few other doorways but Harry didn’t get the chance to look round properly before Snape propelled him into the room and shoved him down onto the leather sofa. 

“These, “ Snape began, “ Are my private quarters. You are not, do you understand me, not to tell anyone of their existence or their whereabouts. Now sit there whilst I make some tea.”

Without a backward glance, Snape stalked from the room and through one of the doorways. Harry turned to watch him go in shock. He’d never really envisioned where Snape lived before. If he had given it a moments thought he would have probably assumed he lived in some dark cave that smelled musty and dank. This place was surprisingly cosy. The floor was flagstone but there were quite a few rugs scattered around the room. He always liked sitting on the hearth rug in front of the fireplace in the Common Room and Snape’s rug looked even comfier than that. Harry relaxed, letting himself sink into the sofa. 

There was something else going on here too, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

He had a strong urge to take his shoes off and go and sit on the rug by the fire. Of course, he wasn’t really going to do it but his every instinct was screaming at him that that would be the right thing to do. 

Behind him, he could hear Snape clattering away in the room that must be his kitchen. It was odd that Snape didn’t just magic some tea, like Dumbledore always did. Maybe Snape wasn’t that powerful. 

Harry rested his head against the back of the sofa and let his eyes slip closed. He’d realised what was strange about this place. It smelled entirely of Snape. He’d become used to smelling Snape’s scent only when it was diluted by other alphas or the foul smelling jars of things that he kept in his office, but now he was reminded of how nice it was. It was strange how such a bitter man could smell so very good.

The sofa dipped as Snape sat down next to him. Harry opened his eyes slowly, he must have dozed off because he felt slightly disoriented. There were two cups of tea on the coffee table in front of him. When Snape saw he was awake, he wordlessly handed a cup and saucer to Harry.

“Thanks,” he said, quietly, unsure how he should treat the man now that they were in his home. This felt so much more personal than holding hands in Snape’s office. Instead, he ducked his head to take a sip of his tea. Of course, this being tea that Snape had made, it wasn’t just regular, normal, tea. No, it tasted slightly of oranges and herbs that Harry couldn’t quite place. Snape was such a snob. Harry hid his smile and took another sip. It did, surprisingly, taste very good. 

“Did you enjoy our trip to Arles?” Snape asked suddenly. 

“Yeah,” Harry paused, trying to think why Snape would bring that up now. It was harder to remember all the reasons that he hated Snape when he was so warm and comfortable and surrounded by his delicious scent. 

“Perhaps, we should repeat our excursion.”

“Really?” Harry jolted in excitement, almost spilling his tea. Snape smiled slightly, even though Harry would have expected some comment about him being clumsy. He had really enjoyed the trip to Arles, even if he had to travel with Snape it was still worth it to see new places. “I mean, yeah. That’d be, er, good.”

Harry gripped his tea. He couldn’t believe how enthusiastic he was about actually spending more time with Snape. 

Snape smiled, it was just a twist of his lips but Harry had the strangest impression that it was the first time Snape had genuinely smiled at him. There was nothing mocking or cruel about it. He was so flabberghasted by the sight that he completely forgot that they were supposed to be holding hands. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Snape reached over and took his hand. 

Their joined hands rested on the sofa between them. 

It felt far too intimate and Harry looked around, painfully embarrassed. He wished they had stayed in Snape’s office, or that they could just talk, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. 

“Could we, er,” Harry’s voice sounded unusually and high. He swallowed, nervous but not sure why. “Could we go back to Arles?”

“I chose Arles solely because the Market there is very well known and I was sure to find Arctic Saxifrage and Unicorn tears. Next time perhaps we might venture somewhere more...indulgent,” Snape’s voice dipped lower. Harry had always hated Snape’s gravelly voice and the way that he drawled insults at Harry; but now Snape’s voice seemed to rumble along Harry’s spine. He shivered and shuffled so that the leather sofa creaked. 

“Are you sure that’s wise, sir? I mean, is it safe?”

“The Dark Lord has very little influence beyond Britain. Naturally, we would alter our appearances, but that is easily arranged. There are a number of Magical Markets across Europe. Perhaps next time we could Floo to Italy. Siena is well known for its Confectioner’s Market. A whole Market dedicated to sweets; I imagine that would appeal to your tastes. The most celebrated delicacy that may be bought there is panforte. 

“Even the Muggle version of it is delicious, but that only has seventeen ingredients. Wizarding panforte has fifty-two magically compressed ingredients. The sweetest Dragon’s Breath plums, the most flavourful night-flowering silvery pears, all the wondrous fruit that that Magical World has to offer contained in one cake.

“They have Ricciarelli biscuits made from whipped egg whites and powdered almond that are baked only long enough for the outside to become crispy, whilst the inside remains soft. There are Cavallucci pastries; chewy biscuits flavoured by aniseed and coriander and honey made from a thousand flowers.”

Snape sat back, watching Harry’s face. He was used to Snape going on about Potions ingredients and their origins, but having a whole lecture just for him was a different experience entirely. 

He wasn’t sure he actually liked the sound of the sweets. Aniseed and coriander didn’t sound delicious at all! And nowhere as fun as all the delights that Honeydukes stocked. What Snape was describing sounded like the sort of things that adults liked and Harry didn’t suppose that he would like them. But there was something about the way that Snape spoke; his descriptions were enthralling. 

Harry pulled his hand away from Snape’s, there had been something too _personal_ about that speech. It might be OK to be friendly with a teacher, but Harry didn’t think it was right to be overly friendly with a teacher. 

“Why are you doing this? Why are you being so….nice to me?” Harry asked plaintively. Snape expression cooled, the openness draining away. His hand, which had been still resting on the sofa between them, was moved onto his lap.

“Surely you cannot have forgotten that?”

“Yeah, but…” What Snape was talking about went way beyond just learning to tolerate each others presence for the sake of the bond. This verged on something far more meaningful. Snape was a spy for the Order, no matter how many times that Harry had doubted him. Snape would, of course, be able to hide his true feelings. Harry looked down at his knees uncomfortably, it wasn’t like he’d ever cared about Snape’s good opinion before but it did sting that Snape found it so easy to be pleasant to him, yet had never bothered before. “But how can you just change overnight? You spent years belittling me, trying to get me expelled and now,” Harry gestured wildly with his hand, ”You didn’t just stop hating me overnight.”

“No, but I am not the only spy at Hogwarts. As one of the Dark Lord’s inner circle it would have been suspicious if I had shown you any kindness.”

“Yeah, I suppose. Actually, no, thats doesn’t make sense because you hated me even when Voldemort,” Snape’s arm twitched suddenly, making Harry think of the Dark Mark hidden beneath the white of Snape’s shirt, “Was supposed to be dead. And I know you hated my father and I know that’s why you hated me too.”

“Your father was a bully and a blackguard.”

“He was not!” Harry yelled automatically. He was still very disturbed about he’d seen in Snape’s Pensieve that day. He did not like to think of his father as a bully; it was far better to simply accuse Snape of lying and not think too much about it.

Harry had been lulled into a false sense of familiarity with his teacher, but this was the man who had been making his life hell for years and Harry couldn’t believe that he’d let himself forget that. 

“You killed Sirius and I’ll never forgive you. You spent years doing everything you could to make me hate you, and you know what? You’ve succeeded. Sirius died because of you. We might have to be polite for the sake of the bond but that’s it. We’re not _friends_ , Professor. I’d rather hold hands with Malfoy that you!”

Snape’s face was pale with anger apart from some patches of red, as if he’d never been so angry and his face wasn’t sure what to do. It made him look even uglier than usual.

“If you refuse, one more time, to call me by my name then, Harry, I shall punish you.”

Harry jutted his chin defiantly. The worst that Snape could do was put him in detention and make him cut up slimey Potions ingredients. That wouldn’t be so bad and it would be an awful lot better than having to spend time with SNape. 

“Oh, how would you do that, Professor?”

“You arrogant - ” Snape stood quickly and stepped away as if Harry had personally offended him, as if Snape had feelings that could get hurt. “You are just a perfect copy of your father, aren’t you? Just as blindly selfish, wailing that the world has been unfair to you because you don’t have everything that you wish for. Your godfather died because he could not accept that the world isn’t fair and his blind stupidity and empty bravado caused his death. Do you think _this_ is what I wish for, _Harry?_ I assure you it is not but I, unlike your dearly departed dogfather, have chosen to obey Dumbledore and do my duty to you and to him. Now get out. Be back on Thursday evening.”

Harry stood angrily. He couldn’t believe he’d ever had a charitable thought about Snape, he was a petty minded, vindictive bastard and Harry had known that since the first time the man had spoken to him. Harry marched out of Snape’s quarters, slamming the door behind him so that it gave a satisfying loud bang. He hoped he’d broken a hinge!

As soon as he was out of Snape’s office, and the cool dungeon air hit his face, Harry felt calmer. In fact it was lot easier to calm down nowadays. All the anger that he’d felt over the years and it had probably been part of Voldemort’s soul controlling him and twisting him. He shuddered, disgusted by the idea. But thinking about being a Horcrux just lead him back to why he’d become an omega and why he’d bonded with Snape in the first place. Harry frowned and began to trudge up the stairs. There was a book he was supposed to have read in the library and he had to go there before he could get back to the safety and comfort of his dorm room. 

His argument with Snape made him feel self-conscious. He didn’t really care what people thought about him. The Prophet had made so many people think that he was crazy last year that he’d had to stop letting it get to him or he would have gone mad. As long as the people close to him liked him and thought well of him then that was enough. He definitely hadn’t cared about Snape’s opinion of him in years. Not since that first Potions lesson when Harry had been so young and eager to please and Snape had been so gut-wrenchingly awful. Harry had realised there and then that nothing he could ever do would make Snape like him. Except, magically, Snape had started to like him. And Harry hated that the man had, just as suddenly, gone back to being his previous hateful self. 

Harry kicked his feet against the steps as he made his way out of the dungeons. It was so unfair of Snape! He wished he’d never seen the nicer side of Snape so that he wouldn’t be missing it now. 

“Oi! I told you not to come into Ravenclaw territory again, Potter!” someone yelled out at him. The Ravenclaw boy, Harper, was storming down the corridor towards him. The boy looked furious, his fists clenched as if he was preparing for a fight.

“I’m just going to the library, I’m not trying to start a fight or anything, but you can’t just claim a whole area of the school and then say that no-one else can go through there!”

Harper stepped forward. He was so close that Harry could feel Harper’s warm breath on his cheek. There was a strong, slightly vinegary scent, that Harry knew was coming from Harper because he was an alpha.

“I don’t go through Gryffindor territory.”

“What?! Gryffindor doesn’t have any _territory!”_

Harper snorted angrily and Harry had to repress the urge to flinch away. The boy was only a Fourth Year, but he was just as tall as Harry and surprisingly intimidating. Harry had the strangest urge to put his head to the side and let Harper see his neck and the bite mark that Snape had left there. 

“Then you should claim some, shouldn’t you Potter? You’re not any better than the rest of us. In fact, you don’t even smell unique. You stink just like Snape does.” Harper put his hands on Harry’s chest and gave him a small push. It wasn’t enough to knock Harry over, but he took an unsteady step backwards. Harper followed him. “You stink of greasy,” Harper gave him another push. “Slimey,” Harper pushed him again.

“Stop it!” Harry yelled, pushing Harper back. He didn’t want to hurt Harper, but he still gave him a decent push. Harper didn’t budge at all. He seemed completely unaffected by Harry’s attempt to shove him. Harper grinned viciously. 

“I’m going to - “

“ _Mr Harper,_ what do you think you are doing?” a voice roared from behind Harry and he didn’t have to turn round to know who it was. It was Severus! Harry smirked at Harper, who was flushing an angry red.

“Sir! He’s in Ravenclaw territory! I have to defend - ”

“The Headmaster’s office. Now!” Snape bellowed. Harry finally looked round at Snape. He looked like he was about to start frothing at the mouth. He looked insane with anger. 

Harper must have thought the same thing because he was already running away, down the corridor, towards Dumbledore’s office. 

“And you! What do you think you are doing? Go to your Common Room at once! Do you not have enough alphas interested in you? Must your flaunt yourself all over the school? Gryffindor Common Room. Go! At once!”

“But I didn’t even do - “

“Potter,” Snape said, his voice as angry and full of vitriol as it always used to be. Harry hadn’t realised how much he liked the way that Snape spoke to him nowadays, how kind it was compared to this awful tone. “Go now before I make sure the entire school knows exactly why Harper is about to be expelled!”

Harry’s eyes widened in shock. He had no idea that the situation was that serious. He didn’t say another word to Snape, he just turned around and made his way back to Gryffindor. He felt rather odd. Snape had protected him. He’d stopped the fight with Harper and in usual Snape fashion was going to overreact and try and get the boy expelled. Just like he’d tried to get Harry expelled in the past. But this time he was going to be doing it because that boy had hurt Harry. 

He went up the to dorm and started getting ready for bed. Only once he was in his pajamas and tucked under his duvet did he let himself smile. He’d never admit it to anyone else but it felt nice to think about Snape looking out for him like that. Maybe spending time with the man hadn’t really been a bad thing after all. They would never be _friends_ , and the man was still a git who managed to aggravate Harry every time they spoke for more than a few minutes; yet the way Snape had behaved made Harry feel safe, in a weird sort of way. He grinned, he might even start thinking of the man as Severus instead of just Snape. 

 

The next morning Harper was the talk of the breakfast table.

“Did you hear about Harper, the Fourth Year Ravenclaw? He got expelled! Apparently his parents are here now, getting his things. Dumbledore himself walked him to the front gate yesterday evening because, apparently, he wasn’t safe to be by himself! He’s going to have to study at home and take his OWLs and NEWTs in the Ministry! Can you imagine? My Ma would kill me!” Seamus said excitedly.

“I heard that he’s lucky that they aren’t going to snap his wand!” Lavender said from further down the table. 

“But, but,” Hermione asked in a confused voice, “Why? I’ve never even heard of him before!”

“Dunno. Someone told me that Patrickson, who’s in his dorm, said he had just come into some sort of creature inheritance. Anyway, it made him really aggressive,” Seamus said with a conspiratorial grin. It was clear that he was loving knowing the latest gossip and being the centre of attention this morning. 

“That’s bollocks,” Ron snapped. Harry and Hermione both turned to look at him curiously. Ron gave a one shouldered shrug. “I mean, you don’t just _come into_ creature inheritance. You either have it, or you don’t. Just look at Hagrid, or Flitwick. It’d be obvious if Harper was something like that. Nah, I reckon he just did something really Dark and Dumbledore just didn’t trust him to be alone anywhere in the school and wanted to get rid of him as quickly as possible.”

“Yeah, yeah that makes more sense,” Harry agreed half-heartedly before tuning out the rest of the conversation to eat his breakfast. His porridge spoon was lifted half-way to his mouth before he thought of something odd. Before Snape had bitten him, before Harry had drunk the potion that had turned him into an omega, Snape had said something about Weasley. Surely Ron wasn’t an alpha? There was something weird going on here. Ron’s sudden anger seemed so misplaced and the only explanation that Harry could think of was that Ron himself was an alpha and he was upset that alphas were being insulted; but how could he ask Ron about it without telling him how he learned about alphas?

Harry put his spoon down carefully and, pretending to lean over to get a glass of orange juice, sniffed at Ron. 

His best friend was definitely not an alpha. Harry frowned at his glass of orange juice. Ron’s family were all Purebloods. It wouldn’t actually be all that surprising if at least one of them was an alpha. So maybe Ron knew all about alphas and omegas.

Harry sipped his juice and suddenly felt very betrayed. All this time he’d been hiding things from his friends. But now it seemed like Ron had been hiding things from him for years. 

“Here, Harry, have another piece of toast,” Hermione said, handing him a slice of toast that was thickly lathered with butter. “You look like you’ve lost weight. It must be all that following Malfoy around. You’ve been missing far too many meals!”

Harry took the toast with a frown. He hadn’t been following Malfoy around for ages now, and he definitely hadn’t been missing meals. He took a bite of the toast and didn’t say anything. Hermione would have been horribly offended if he went around commenting on her weight. He took another bite and chewed slowly.

“Oh, he looks fine,” Ron said loudly from across the table, “Leave him alone. Anyway, Seekers have to be light. It makes them more manoeuvrable on a broom.”

“I didn’t..” Hermione said loudly, sounding as if she was gearing up towards one of her rants. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry, Harry. I just worry.”

“That’s alright, Hermione,” Harry said with a grin. But later, as they made their way to class, Harry pulled Ron aside. He hadn’t noticed any difference in his body, but after the Incident in Charms where he’d lost all his pubes he wasn’t going to take any chances. They still hadn’t grown back and he didn’t want to have to start worrying about his body doing some else weird.

“Don’t worry about it, mate,” Ron said reassuringly, “Not all girls love brawn.”

“So, you do think I look thinner?”

“Well, maybe a little bit less muscle-y. But thats nothing a bit more Quidditch practise wouldn’t fix.”

Harry hummed thoughtfully and they carried on walking to class. He did not find Ron’s words reassuring at all, but he wasn’t sure what he could do about it. Dumbledore had implied that there might be some physical changes and this just had to be another one of them.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry chewed the end of his quill and tried to read through his Transfiguration essay. Beside him, Ron shifted awkwardly in his seat, his fidgeting sounding loud in the silence of the library.

“Did you ever read that book? The one that Hermione said would make this essay really easy?” Ron whispered. Harry shook his head thinking about Harper who had stopped him getting to the library. How exactly had Snape got Harper expelled? He’d spent years failing to get Harry expelled, what argument could he have used that would have convinced Dumbledore to expel a boy?

“Nah, but I don’t think I’m going to bother. I think I’ve covered everything without doing any more research.”

Ron slid a leather bound book across the desk. 

“If you change your mind then this is the one that Hermione was going on about.”

Harry thanked him and opened the book. The first page had the title of the book printed in copperplate, _Tranffiguration Most Arduous,_ and underneath was the author’s name and the publishing information. Small typed letter proudly stated that the book had been published in London, Paris and New Edinburgh; then the year of publication, 1701. Harry stared down at the date thoughtfully. 

If the last omega had died two hundred years ago then there should be loads of books about them. In Wizarding terms, two hundred years wasn’t that long. Lots of Wizards lived well into their hundreds. Hermione routinely read books that were four or five hundred years old. The library should be crammed full of information about omegas, he wouldn’t even have to ask Hermione to help him the research, he could do it by himself. 

Harry shut the book and began to pack up his bag.

“Thanks, Ron, but I don’t fancy thinking about Transfiguration anymore tonight. I’m going to look round the library, see if I can’t find anything interesting.”

Ron looked up at him blankly.

“Huh? You’re not going back to the Common Room?” Ron asked, puzzled. Harry shook his head. “Alright, have, er, fun.” Ron said slowly, very obviously confused by Harry’s sudden interest in the library. Harry pulled his bag over his shoulder and walked away, it wasn’t like he only ever read because the teachers forced him to. Just cos he wasn’t a bookworm like Hermione didn’t mean that he couldn’t be interested in things. 

The problem was he’d never really been that interested in the library before. He knew enough to find the book he was looking for to do his homework, but that was pretty much it. He walked down a narrow aisle and began to read the titles of the books at random. _Humungous Heffalumps and Hippogriffs_ and _Lions of the Arctic: The Real Problem with Ecological Reassignment._ He was probably in the Magical Animals section, he hadn’t even known that was a section.

Finally, tucked right at the back of the library, he found a shelf next to the Wizarding History section; the shelf was labelled ‘Wizards Through History.’ Harry had to get down on his knees to see the books properly. There weren’t many books and the layer of dust that covered them was thicker even than the dust on all the other neighbouring books.

He puffed out a lungful of air and sent dust scattering, but he still had to run a hand over the spines before he could read any of the titles clearly. _Darius Devilsnail: The Man Who Introduced Gastropods To Wizards_ was the first book that caught his eye. He wasn’t sure what a gastropod was but perhaps it was something to do with what Harry was looking for. 

He opened the book to the the Table of Contents and avidly read the name of each chapter. Really, it looked more like a biography than anything else. There didn’t seem to be any mention of alphas or omegas as Harry flipped the book open at random pages and read a few lines. He learnt nothing except that gastropods just meant slugs and snails. He closed the book firmly and put it on the ground. 

He picked up the next book on the shelf, it looked considerably older than the Devilsnail book and when Harry checked he saw it had been published in 1564. He rifled through it excitedly but it looked to just be another biography. Harry tried another book. And then another. Each time he was disappointed. 

Finally after having flicked through every book on the shelf, he gave up. There was nothing about omegas on this shelf at all. He put the books back on the shelf and began to wander the library, looking for a section that would be helpful. He didn’t really look where he was going, he was too despondent. The library was so large and the information could be hidden anywhere. He stopped and looked at the shelf he’d found himself in front of. They were all Potions books and not useful at all. 

Suddenly Harry gasped. Snape had said that information about omegas had been lost, so there wouldn’t be any information in the library anyway. But how was that possible, how could omegas have been forgotten about so quickly if the last one had only died two hundred years ago?

It was impossible that there wasn’t any mention of omegas in any book in the library, but he didn’t know where to look or how to search. 

Harry had to know the truth. He deserved it. Dumbledore had said that Snape was the expert so he was going to go and confront Snape and get him to tell him the truth about what was going on. 

He was halfway down to the dungeons before he started to have second thoughts. After their argument Snape had told him not to come back for one of their meetings until Thursday. It was only Tuesday, which meant that he could have two Snape free days if he wanted. But instead he was willingly, deliberately, searching Snape out. 

Harry shrugged and carried on descending the stairs. It wasn’t like he was going to see Snape for the pleasure of his company, he just wanted information from the man. At least this was sure to be over quickly and there would be no hand holding. 

He banged heavily on the Potions office door. He hadn’t thought to check what time it was, but he was still surprised that Snape didn’t immediately open the door, or at least yell for him to come in. Harry put his hand on the door handle and turned it experimentally. The lock clicked as if Harry had actually had a key and had unlocked it. The door swung open for him, but the office was completely empty. 

It felt slightly wrong to be in here by himself. He shut the door and looked around awkwardly. On one of the shelves, next to the jars of pickled creatures, was Dumbledore’s stone Pensieve. Harry took an involuntary step back from it, remembering the last time he’d peeked into Snape’s Pensieve. 

Just then the door to Snape’s quarters was flung open and the man himself was standing there. 

“Pot - Harry! You appear to be two days early.”

Harry set his chin. He was determined to find out the truth. 

“I have some questions that I want you to answer,” Harry said, looking Snape in the eye and trying to sound as self-assured as he could. He wasn’t sure how Snape was going to react. It was perfectly possible that Snape would just yell at him and tell him to go away, but he didn’t; Snape just opened the door to his quarters even wider in invitation. 

“I imagine you do, but perhaps, for this, we should adjourn. You’d better come in,“ Snape said, raising one eyebrow and watching intently as Harry sidled past him into his sitting room. This wasn’t what Harry had intended, he’d meant to just confront Snape for the answers that the library lacked and then go on his way. This wasn’t supposed to be one of their _amicable_ meetings!

“Sit. I’ll make some tea,” Snape said abruptly. Before Harry had a chance to say that that wasn’t necessary, that he wasn’t going to stay that long, Snape had his back to him and was striding away.

Harry sat, awkwardly perching on the leather sofa. Snape’s quarters looked just as they had before; the fire was roaring and the hearth rug looked cosy and inviting. Alpha scent permeated the entire place and Harry couldn’t help but relax. It smelled so nice that he slumped back on the sofa, making himself comfortable. 

Snape made the same tea as before, its slightly citrusy smell perking Harry up. Snape sat down on the sofa; he was so close to Harry that they might have held hands again. 

“Before you ask your questions there was something that I wished to tell you,” Snape began, turning to face Harry. The change in position meant that Snape’s legs were even closer than before, his knees almost touching Harry’s. “About your godfather.”

Harry stiffened; his lips tightening into a flat line. He doubted that he wanted to hear whatever Snape was about to say. 

“Black and I did not get on. He was a bully and an attempted murderer. However, he was also a member of the Order. I did everything I could to aid him from the moment that you warned me. I did not goad him into doing anything. He went to the Ministry because of you.”

Harry’s hands clenched in his lap. Snape sighed heavily as if the words he was about to say were incredibly difficult for him. 

“He loved you. He believed you were your father incarnate and returned to him. He would have risked anything to come and help you. He was impetuous and reckless, he refused to listen to reason. He left the safety of Grimmauld Place because he wanted to rescue you. Not because of anything I said to him; he spent a lifetime disregarding any insult I threw at him. He left because he wanted to help you.”

“You’re saying his death is my fault?” Harry gasped out. Everything that Snape was saying made sense. Tears welled up in Harry’s eyes. He had vowed when Sirius gave him the Two-Way Mirror that he would never use it, but if he had only remembered it that day then Sirius would still be alive. 

“I am saying that Black thought that coming to your aid was worth risking his life. It was an act of love. You do him a disservice to think otherwise.”

Harry leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. Sirius had loved him so much, but they’d had such a short time together, it was so painfully unfair!

He heard the leather of the sofa creak as Snape moved about and then he felt a heavy arm draping across his shoulders. Snape was trying to comfort him! Harry stilled, not daring to move. It was almost a hug. Snape was almost hugging him! Harry choked back a sound that was half sob and half derisive snort. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. 

Snape pulled him close and Harry’s face was pushed against Snape’s chest, just like it had been when they’d Flooed together. Harry hardly dared breath, he couldn’t believe that Snape was doing this. There had to be some Magical Symbolism to this, like the symbolism that meant they had to hold hands because he couldn’t think of any other reason that Snape would want to hug him.

It was actually rather nice to be hugged; once he got over the initial shock. Harry didn’t have a lot of experience with it. The Dursleys had never been interested in hugging him. It was only Hermione or Mrs Weasley who would ever hug him, and even then it was only very briefly. He never really knew what to do; should he hug them back and where should he put his hands?

But being hugged by Snape wasn’t awkward like that, because Snape was just holding on to him. It would be unimaginable to hug Snape back. So Harry sat, basking in the comforting solidness of Snape’s arms for as long as Snape would let him. 

“Our tea will get cold,” Snape said finally. Harry had no idea how long he’d been leaning against Snape. It was so difficult to keep track of time when he was surrounded by that alpha scent.

Harry jerked backwards, embarrassed that not only had he hugged Snape, but it had been Snape that had ended the hug. Merlin, had Snape only hugged him out of pity? He hadn’t thought that Snape was even capable of pity. 

He picked up his tea from the table, and cradled it protectively in his hands. 

“Have you looked in the library for books about omegas?” Harry asked abruptly. He didn’t want Snape to talk about Sirius any more.

“No,” Snape said with a frown, “Of course not. Why would I?”

“Don’t you want to know about them? Aren’t you interested?” Harry asked accusingly. He was astonished that Snape hadn’t bothered to research omegas. He was always yelling at people in class because they hadn’t read enough books. He’d assumed that Snape would have swotted up as much as he could. Just because Harry hadn’t been able to track down the right book didn’t mean that Snape wouldn’t find anything if he bothered to look. 

“Naturally, but there is only one book that discusses omegas and that is banned.”

“What? Why is it banned? And why is there only one book? It’s not like it was that long ago, not by Wizarding standards.”

Snape blinked at him, his face becoming expressionless in front of Harry’s very eyes. He was beginning to get more used to Snape’s facial expressions and he was pretty sure that blank look meant that he was feeling something quite strongly and going to great lengths to hide it. 

“Not that long ago?” His voice was so calm that Harry only picked up on the slight hiss of anger because he was so attuned to it. 

“Well, I..Dumbledore - “

“Professor Dumbledore,” Snape interrupted. Harry ignored him.

“He told me that the last omega died two hundred years ago.”

“That is, strictly speaking, true. However the last omega before that died over a thousand years ago. Hogwarts itself was founded as a reaction to the increasing number of beta Wizards. Salazar Slytherin believed that, by keeping the Magical bloodlines Pure, omegas would one day return to us.”

“So...Who was this omega who died two hundred years ago?” 

“One of Slytherin’s descendents created a potion that could be given to a beta which meant she give would birth to an omega. The potion was used and an omega born.”

“What happened?” Harry asked, leaning forward to listen intently. Snape hesitated and then reached out a hand to hold onto Harry’s hand. He’d become rather used to Snape holding his hand, but usually their joined hands were between them; on the desk, or resting on the sofa. Now their hands were intertwined on Harry’s lap, but before Harry could say anything Snape began talking. 

“He lived an unhappy life. He spent his childhood years in isolation as his father feared that a rogue alpha would carry him off. After seeing his omega child’s distress, the inventor of the potion destroyed the recipe and it has never been recovered.” 

“But what happened to the omega?”

“He died, tragically young. There was a book written about him. The book was instrumental in creating a resurgence of Pureblood ideology that still surrounds us. Ten years after its publication, during a time of deep political divisions, the book was banned. The Minister of the day believed the book to be the source of the political upheaval and thought that by not only banning the book, but also Banishing every copy, he could repress the surge in Pureblood Supremacists. He could not. However, he did make it almost impossible to get hold of the blasted book.”

“What does this book have to do with Pureblood Supremacists?” Harry asked, frowning. He unconsciously gripped Snape’s hand a little tighter.

“Very little, the book merely deals with the omega’s day to day life. However alphas had been without omegas for such a long time that... For the last thousand years, being born an alpha has been a curse. An omega born into a Pureblood family appeared to justify all of Slytherin’s doctrines,” Snape said, his hand twisting around Harry’s smaller hand and his thumb stroking the back of Harry’s hand. 

“Huh, I don’t understand. What’s wrong with being an alpha? What does it matter to alphas if there are omegas around or not?” Harry asked in confusion. He felt like he was missing some vital piece of information that Snape was refusing to tell him. 

“Are you not curious as to why the Headmaster expelled Harper?” 

Harry frowned, not sure if Snape was evading his question or if this was his way of explaining. He eyed Snape warily, not sure whether to let him to change the subject so easily or not.

“Alright. Why did Dumbledore expel Harper?”

“Because the boy is an alpha and, as such, is prone towards violence and aggression. Look at the way he tried to engage you in Muggle brawling.”

Harry dropped his head. It wouldn’t have been much of a brawl. He’d shoved Harper as hard as he could and the other boy hadn’t even stumbled. It had been humiliating. How was he supposed to defeat Voldemort if he couldn’t even defend himself from a Fourth Year?

“Expelling him probably ruined his life,” Harry said trying to forget how nice it had been to have Snape on his side for once. He’d been happy to think that Snape was going to be arguing for someone other than Harry to be expelled, but right now he just felt badly for Harper. What Harry had done was no better than what Tom Riddle had done, all those years ago, when he got Hagrid expelled. 

“Albus was generous enough to allow the Harper boy to attend Hogwarts in the first place, the boy showed that he was not worthy of that trust.” 

“He didn’t really do anything. I mean, not really. Just a bit of shoving and thats not a big deal. He didn’t even punch me.”

“It is whatever sort of deal I choose to make of it. However, in this instance it is likely that he’ll be able to come back for his sixth year..If he passes his OWLs. Alphas are taught, from an early age, to resist the compulsion of our biology. They, we, are all honour bound to control ourselves. I have no respect for an alpha who cannot keep his baser emotions in check.” 

“Why did he single me out? Is there something wrong with the bond? Could he tell I’m an omega?”

“No. As I said, alphas tend to be aggressive. That can lead to a certain hierarchy amongst alphas; weaker alphas are bullied, whilst the strong are respected. As your scent, although indubitably alpha, is not strong, it makes you a target for any alpha who wishes to prove himself.” 

“Oh,” he chewed his lip, thinking about what Snape had said before reaching a conclusion, “I’m not weak!” 

“Naturally. However, as Harper would have continued to pose a threat to you, the Headmaster was amenable to having him expelled, which is also why he may be allowed to return once you are no longer a student here. Although that is by no means a certainty. The Headmaster is notorious for extending his generosity to anyone seeking an education, but Harper showed that he was incapable of … _socialisation._ ” Snape drawled the last word slowly, his deep voice caressing each syllable. 

“It really wasn’t you that got him expelled?” Harry asked, feeling oddly let down. He’d built up this mental image of Snape pressing for Harper to be expelled. He wasn’t even sure why, it wasn’t like he really cared, he wouldn’t have been worried if Harper had stayed at Hogwarts. He could look after himself. 

“I may have spent some time convincing Albus of the necessity of Harper’s expulsion.”

Harry picked up his tea cup with his free hand, only just becoming aware that Snape was still stroking the back of his hand with his thumb. He cleared his throat loudly but Snape didn’t even seem to realise what he was doing. 

“So, erm, what else can you tell me about omegas?”

Snape’s thumb stopped moving. It was, Harry thought, for the best. It had been a weird feeling. It had felt nice, but also made him uneasy, because he hadn’t known when Snape was going to stop. 

“Omegas were known for their fondness for creating spaces in which they felt comfortable. They would have a safe place that they went to, that was their home. Have you noticed yourself developing any such notions?” 

Harry shook his once. Except, was that entirely true? 

”I suppose, I go to my dorm more often. Whenever I get...tired, or I‘ve had a long day”

“After a long day you think about going to bed?” Snape asked sarcastically.

”Well, yeah. But I didn’t used to. Not like this. Like, when we...argued the other day, I really wanted to get back to my dorm and, just, when I feel….It’s really comforting to go to the dormitory. And I like the way it smells in there, like dry sweat and Seamus’ dirty socks and Neville’s weird plant.”

“You prefer that to, perhaps, the way that my quarter’s smell?” 

That struck Harry as an odd question, but, now he thought about it, Snape’s sitting room did smell better even than his own dorm. He wasn’t going to admit that to the git though, not even now that they were trying to be friendly. 

“No..Its just different, I guess. Not in a bad way. This place smells,” Harry struggled to think of a word that wasn’t too flattering, “Safer.”

Snape let go of his hand and took a sip of his own tea. His beady eyes were calculating and Harry couldn’t even imagine what the man was thinking about now. 

“I have been giving some thought to our previous discussion,” Snape announced as he put his tea down on the table. They had had quite a few discussions recently, but Harry would rather bite his own tongue off than admit he didn’t know what Snape was talking about, so he kept silent and waited for Snape to explain himself. “About alphas controlling their - . Controlling the omega that they are bonded to.”

“What?” Harry’s head shot up and he sat up straight. “What kind of thought?”

“I believe that this influence is not as great as either you or Albus imagine. We all assumed that this control would be exercised over the mind, but I have come to believe that it is a physical response.”

Harry stopped himself from making a confused noise just in time. He wished that Snape could just speak plainly. 

“So..You thought that an alpha would be able to control my mind, but now you think an alpha could control my body?? How would that work, sir?”

“Severus,” Snape corrected. “That is essentially correct.”

“That sounds weird.”

“Hmm,” Snape pursed his lips, “You were interested before in finding out what it would feel like to be thus controlled.”

“Yeah..I mean. I guess,” Harry stuttered. He wasn’t sure about this anymore. Yes, he had wanted to know what it felt like to have Snape controlling his thoughts, but controlling his body sounded intimate and he wasn’t sure he wanted to experience that at all. It was like letting Snape cast the Imperius Curse on him, even though Harry might trust the man more than he used to, he would still be wary of letting things get that far. 

“Take off your school robes and your jumper, this can be done in shirtsleeves. “

Harry didn’t say anything. If Snape asked him to take anything else off then he would say no but, as it was, he’d been around Snape in just his shirt before. 

“Good, now turn around.” 

Harry twisted round on the sofa so that his shoulders faced Snape. Even after all these meetings it still felt unwise to turn his back on Snape and leave himself so vulnerable. Two heavy hands landed on Harry’s shoulders and he flinched, twisting his head back to look at Snape. 

“What are you doing?!”

“Calm yourself. This is an experiment and when we have finished you will leave and go back to your dormitory.”

Harry scowled and turned back round. 

Snape’s fingers dug into his shoulder, rubbing them and massaging them. It felt good. It might almost have been relaxing, if it had been anyone else doing it to him. Snape’s hands moved closer to his neck, pressing into him. Harry felt a noise coming out of his mouth. It was a whimper. He couldn’t help it. Snape’s hands felt so good. 

He’d seen girls in the Common Room give each other massages, but he’d never had one before. Hermione wasn’t the type of girl to care about massages and it would have been weird for anyone else to touch him, but now he realised why the girls all did this to each other. He whimpered again. It felt far too good. He knew he should move away. He didn’t want Snape making him feel good. But then Snape’s hands moved again and they were pressing into a spot right at the back of his neck. That spot felt different. It was like Snape had flipped a switch and Harry felt his entire body relax. His muscles seemed to melt and he couldn’t even keep his head upright. His whole body went limp.

“Sir? Harry called out. He knew he should be panicking, but he couldn’t seem to gather the energy. His whole body was just a puddle of goo. Even his voice was muffled because his throat was too heavy to move. His eyelids felt heavy and he couldn’t fight against them. He was so comfortable and warm, with every part of his body completely limp. 

Snape released him and instantly Harry was wide awake. He turned and scrambled away. 

“What did you do?” Harry couldn’t keep the accusation out of his voice. 

“I was testing a theory. I had no idea how you would respond. It appears that there is a point on your neck which forces you to relax your muscles. The next question is whether you reacted that way because we are bonded, or if you would have responded to anyone in the same manner.”

“I don’t want to do that again,” Harry said quickly. His body felt still felt more relaxed, muscles that he hadn’t even realised had been tensed felt better. It was good, but the idea of being that vulnerable in front of Snape was appalling. The whole thing reminded him of the way a kitten would go limp when its mother picked it up by the extra skin on the back of its neck. Well, he was not a kitten, and Snape was definitely not his mother!

“It felt unpleasant?” 

“Yeah,” Harry said quickly. He was just beginning to think about what it meant to have a part of his body that anyone could touch and it made him go entirely limp. What if Voldemort found out about it? What if he was duelling with some Death Eater and they touched his neck. It would be disastrous. “I don’t want to do that again.”

Snape handed him his clothes and was silent as Harry got dressed. 

“As you wish.”

Something about Snape’s answer made him appear more subdued than Harry had ever seen him. Snape was the sort of person that attacked life, he was always so full of constrained energy, ready to be let loose in a torrent of anger at any moment; but right now he just looked rather sad and broken. 

“I’m going to go, sir. Severus.”

Snape nodded and didn’t stand up as Harry left the sitting room. He shut the door behind him, not sure what was weirder, having a button on his neck that basically incapacitated him or Snape’s behaviour. He tried to put Snape from his mind. His neck was far more important. Hopefully Snape was right and it was only him that had that effect on Harry. He’d have to get someone else to touch just there and see if he felt anything. Ginny had offered to give him a massage a while ago, maybe he could persuade her to give him one now. 

He didn’t get a chance to talk to Ginny all day on Wednesday, and it wasn’t until early Thursday evening that Harry saw her in the Common Room. She was lounging on a sofa with Hermione and a few other girls and chatting animatedly. Harry was sitting with Ron, their homework books open in front of them. He didn’t mean to stare at Ginny, but she looked so pretty when she smiled that Harry couldn’t help it. He ducked his head when Ginny suddenly looked round at him. Flushing and embarrassed, he opened his mouth to talk to Ron. He didn’t want Ginny to think that he was just sitting there staring at her like an idiot. After all, there was something that he’d been meaning to ask Ron for a few days. 

“Ron?” 

His friend had been staring out of the window and Ron shook himself a little, as if he had been in a daze, before answering Harry.

“Yeah?”

“What’s a Magical Market?”

“Well,” Ron said with a frown, “It’s a market, that sells magical things.”

Harry rolled his eyes good naturedly. 

“I gathered. I mean, are they common? How come I’ve never heard about them before?”

“Oh!” Ron exclaimed before continuing with a thoughtful look. “Well, there’s Market Andover that Mum goes to sometimes. She says its cheaper, erm, fresher, than getting things from Diagon Alley. But Market Andover is mostly just a magical farmers market. Vegetables and cheese, that sort of thing. I suppose, the thing is, they’re not very common in Britain. There’s loads on the Continent. I’d love to go and see them, they’re all over Europe and they specialise in different things. Like there’s one that only sells sweets! Can you imagine, Harry? It’d be like a giant outdoor Honeydukes! It’d be brilliant! But lots of people look down on them, or think they’re not worth bothering with.”

“What? Why?”

“Well...International Floo powder is really expensive. And, even if you can afford that, then you wouldn’t be able to understand what everyone’s saying. Not unless you learn the language or you have a Translating Potion. Which is also really expensive and it’s too risky to make at home. When we went to Egypt, my Dad bought some, just a little mind you. Just enough to sort out our hotel and stuff. Anyway he said it was great. Obviously it can’t literally make the other person speak English to you, but it translates what they say, word for word, inside your ear!”

“Huh,” Harry frowned in thought; that explained why Snape’s translation elixir had made everyone sound so strange! It wasn’t just Snape not being able to make a better Translation Elixir, it was just how the potion worked. “So people don’t like Magical Markets because they’re expensive to get to?”

“Well...yeah. For most people. But Purebloods hate them, even though lots of Pureblood are rich enough to go to Magical Markets all the time. I think that’s why there are so few of them in Britain. I remember Dad explaining it, but it was all to do with economics. Like stallholders don’t pay as much tax and...It was something like that. I’ll have to ask Dad again, I’ve forgotten all the details.”

Harry nodded. He was interested in knowing how anyone could object to a Magical Market, he’d had such a good time with Snape. 

“So it’d be weird for a Pureblood to go to a Magical Market?”

“Oh yeah! Definitely. I mean, if someone cared about that sort of thing. I’d love to go to a Magical Market, but you can order things by owl, you don’t have to go in person as long as you know what you want and stuff.”

Harry hummed thoughtfully. He was wondering why Snape had even thought to take him to Arles if he could have just ordered the things he’d bought there. He probably could have just got them delivered by owl post. It was almost as if Snape had taken him there just for the fun of going. Harry shook his head. Snape did not care about whether he had fun or not. 

“Harry? Mate? What makes you ask? Which Pureblood went to a Magical Market?”

“No-one,” Harry said, far too quickly. “I mean, I just overheard some Slytherins in the corridor after class, and I didn’t understand what they were say.”

“Right, thought it must be something like that. Anyway, you should get going if you don’t want to be late for your detention with old Snape.”

Harry groaned and let his head fall down onto the open book on the table in front of him. Life felt like one endless circle of lessons, detention and homework. At least there was the Quidditch match to look forward to. 

“Harry?” a girlish voice said gingerly. Harry shot up and looked round into Ginny’s pretty face. 

Behind her, the girls on the sofa were watching them eagerly. 

“Oh, hi, Ginny. How are you?”

She giggled.

“I’m ok, better than you. Is everything alright?” she asked, gesturing towards his book.

“Ron!” Hermione called out, “Ron! Can you come over here and help me with this?”

Ron gave a confused shrug and stood up. Harry had the distinct impression that Hermione was setting this up so that Ginny and him would have a moment alone. He licked his lips nervously. As much as he liked Ginny, he had no idea what to say to her. 

“Oh, this? Yeah, just a lot of homework,” Harry said, trying not to cringe. How did other people manage to sound smooth and cool when they talked to girls? “I’m, er, getting a crick in my neck.”

Harry thought he sounded subtle, but Ginny’s eyes lit up and she took a step towards him. 

“Really? I could help you, if you like. I’m always giving my friends massages.”

Harry blushed, feeling like he’d manipulated her. He’d known that she would offer to massage him if he said his neck hurt. 

“Thanks, Ginny,” Harry muttered, turning his back to her. Instantly her hands were on his shoulders. Her little fingers dug into him, pinching at him and he squirmed. Her hands were so small that Harry felt like she was picking at him. It would have been better if her hands were larger, so that they covered more of his shoulders. 

“Erm, it’s really bad right in the middle of my neck,” Harry said quietly. Ginny began to work her fingers into the exact same spot that Snape had touched the other day. It didn’t have any effect on Harry at all. In fact, Ginny’s massage was making him feel even tenser than he had been. Harry didn’t say anything, but he wasn’t really enjoying himself and he definitely didn’t have any urge to groan like he had when Snape had massaged him. He supposed that Snape must just be more skilled than Ginny was, although he couldn’t imagine who would let Snape practice on them. 

He ducked his head to get Ginny to stop. 

“Thanks, Ginny. That feels, um, better,” Harry lied. It wasn’t a complete lie, he did feel better knowing that it was just Snape affected his neck so strangely. “Actually, I’d better get going. I’m going to be late for detention.”

“Oh, thats a shame. I’m just about to do my homework and I thought we might sit together,” Ginny said, her shoulders sagging slightly as Harry packed up his books. 

He made his way down to the dungeons slowly. There was something on his mind. He’d always thought that, if Ginny ever touched him, then it would feel great, but there was no denying that Snape’s massage had made him feel way better than Ginny’s had. Harry stopped suddenly, he was just outside Myrtle’s toilet and there was a strange noise coming from inside. He stilled and pressed his ear to the door, trying to work out what the noise was. 

Someone was crying! Harry pushed the door open slowly, but the scent of an alpha hit him immediately. It was that same damp, woodsy smell that Harry associated with Malfoy. Surely, Malfoy couldn’t be crying?

"Don't...Don't...Tell me what's wrong...I can help you..." Moaning Myrtle said, her nasally voice surprisingly soothing. But Draco didn’t answer her. He gave a loud sniff and then turned quickly. The alpha must have been able to smell Harry’s presence as easily as Harry had used Malfoy’s scent to identify who was in the bathroom. 

“Potter!” Malfoy spat angrily, the tears still shining on his face. “You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you? Always sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

The bathroom had smelled of that woods scent that Harry associated with Malfoy, but now the scent got stronger, as if Malfoy was able to control it and he was pushing out more of his scent. It was so strong, so cloying, that it tickled Harry’s nose and stuck in his throat like a coating. He was sure he was going to gag, it was so potent. 

“I didn’t mean -” Harry spluttered, coughing slightly.

“Oh no! You don’t mean anything, do you, Potter! I’ve seen you, following me. You think just because you’ve presented that suddenly that makes you even more special. _Oh, look at me, I’m another tragic alpha, doomed to die alone!_ You’re nothing! I can barely even scent you! Even now! Can you even make your scent stronger?! You’re weak! In the past you would have been put down! Look at you! You deserve to die!”

Malfoy’s face was flushed with fury and he spat every word. The boy reached into his robes and Harry suddenly knew that Malfoy was going for his wand and that he really was going to try and kill him. 

“Av - “ Malfoy began, but Harry interrupted him. His mind was blank and the only spell he could remember was one of the Prince’s. 

“Sectumsempra!” he yelled with a wave of his wand. Instantly blood burst out of Malfoy and he fell to the ground in a heap. His pale hands clutched at huge gashes that appeared on his chest, desperately trying to staunch his own wounds. Blood fountained out of him, pouring onto the the bathroom tiles as it gushed out of the boy. Distantly, he heard Myrtle screaming. 

“Murder! Murder in the bathroom!” she wailed, but Harry could only stare dumbfounded at Malfoy’s body. He had to be dead. No-one could lose that much blood and still be alive. He stepped forward, not sure how he could help, but he didn’t want Malfoy to be dead. He’d never meant for anything like this to happen; he was torn by guilt. But even worse than that was how betrayed he felt. He’d trusted the Prince, even when all his friends had said that the boy was bad. The Prince was a little sarcastic, a little acerbic but not _evil_. Except he must be. His Prince had invented this spell and this spell had murdered Malfoy. That meant his Prince was a murderer too. 

Harry heard the bathroom door open and someone roughly push him aside. It was Snape. Of all the people to find him, why did it have to be Snape? But the Professor was ignoring him. The man knelt next to Malfoy and began muttering a sing song like spell, as if he didn’t understand that Malfoy was dead. The blood that had been flowing so freely across the floor, stopped and seemed to retreat, going back into Malfoy’s body. Snape carried on chanting, repeating one phrase again and again and Harry saw that the large gashes were slowly closing, the skin knitting itself back together. 

Malfoy gave a small cough and Harry realised he was still alive. His knees buckled and he sunk to the ground. He wasn’t a murderer. It was such a sweet relief that he wanted to cry. 

“Potter!” Snape spat, as he levitated Malfoy, “Wait here for me while I take Malfoy to the Hospital Wing. Do not move!”

Harry nodded unhappily. He was still in shock. It seemed almost unbelievable that this had happened. Surely, his Prince had never used that spell against anyone?

There was no trace of Malfoy’s blood on the bathroom floor. The bathroom looked exactly as it had before, but everything had changed. Harry had almost killed someone. 

Snape was back before Harry could get his head around what had happened. He was still sitting on the floor and staring at the spot where Malfoy had fallen when Snape approached him. 

“You will tell me exactly where you learned that spell.”

“I…” Harry shook his head. He couldn’t tell Snape about the Prince. “I didn’t…”

He looked at Snape, but the man’s tunnel like eyes were unreadable.

 _”Legilimens!”_ Snape hissed. Harry’s eyes widened in panic and desperately tried to Occlude.

But he’d never been able to keep Snape out of his head and this time was worse than it had ever been before. Harry tried not to think about the Half-Blood Prince’s book but he could feel the force of Snape’s Legilimency in his head. It didn’t feel like it had before, during their Occlumency lessons, when he’d been aware of Snape intruding and had known exactly what Snape was seeing. This time it was like being smothered with a warm blanket. Snape’s mind was all around his, seeing everything and, the scariest thing, was that Harry didn’t _want_ to fight him off. He didn’t want Snape to see the Prince’s book, but it actually felt good to have his mind so surrounded. Even though it was Snape, the intrusion into his mind felt gentle and warm. 

Snape lowered his wand and the spell broke, but it took Harry a few moments to come back to himself. He’d closed his eyes, which was strange because Snape had told him in the past that eye contact was necessary for Legilimency to work, yet he had been managing to do it whilst Harry’s eyes were closed. When he opened them, he saw a look of pure shock on Snape’s face, but Harry blinked, not quite believing that Snape was capable of showing so much emotion and when he looked at Snape again the man’s face was as sneering and angry as ever. 

“Potter, go and wait for me in my office!” Snape spat. Harry stood stock still, rigid with shock. He’d expected that Snape would try to have him expelled, or threaten to call Aurors to arrest him. “Bring the book,” Harry’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t show Snape the Half-Blood Prince’s book but the book was in his bag and he didn’t have time to get rid of it.

He darted out into the corridor, hoping that he had time to go back to the Common Room and switch his book for Ron’s, but then Snape stepped out of the bathroom. 

“Well, Potter? Move!”

Snape was right behind him and now he wouldn’t have any chance of getting rid of the incriminating book. Harry kept on looking around, hoping against hope that he could dump the Prince’s book somewhere on the way down to Snape’s office. But there was no time. Before he knew it, they were turning on to the Potions corridor and the Prince’s book was still in his bag. Then they were entering Snape’s office and Snape was closing the door behind them and the book was still in his bag!

“Give me the book!” 

Harry flushed and opened his bag. He wished more than anything in the world that the Prince’s book wasn’t in his bag, that he didn’t have to give it to Snape. His fingers shook as he got it out of his bag and he slid it onto Snape’s desk. 

“Where did you get it?” Snape’s voice sounded like a serpent’s angry hiss and Harry shivered. 

“It was in the Potions classroom, in a cupboard.”

Snape made a low noise in the back of his throat that sounded unnervingly like a growl. Harry bowed his head in shame. Snape was going to make sure that everyone would find out that he’d been cheating at Potions. He could already see Dumbledore and Slughorn’s disappointed faces. All those things that Slughorn had said about him being like his mother, now he’d know that none of those things were true. 

“Sir, please, I didn’t mean to hurt him that badly! I didn’t know it was going to do that!”

“So you used an unknown spell written by an unknown author?” 

“I know him! I’ve had his book all year. None of his other spells are like that!”

“You have been using his other spells,” Snape commented blankly as he flicked through the book. Every potion was annotated, every page covered in scribbles. It would be so obvious to Snape that he’d been using the Prince’s improved recipes.“Well, this certainly explains your sudden prodigy in Potions. It fails to explain why you used that spell, or why you used it on a boy you used to be so very fond of,” Snape raised an eyebrow and Harry had the strangest impression that he was nowhere near as angry with Harry as he had been moments before. 

“He was going to use an Unforgivable on me! And, and…” Harry felt tears well up in his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall in front of Snape. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way that Malfoy had lain, slumped on the floor like a corpse surrounded by his own blood. “I trusted the Prince! I read his book in bed! He’d never…” Harry wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Snape was going to kill him for hurting one of his precious Slytherins. 

“You take the book to bed with you?” Snape sat down heavily, he looked paler than ever. 

“I’ll stop using the book! I’ll get rid of it! Hermione’s been telling me to for ages and I never…”

“No!” Snape said sharply, looking angrier at the idea of Harry throwing the Prince’s book away than he was about what he’d done to Malfoy. “Keep the book. You acted in self-defense.”

Harry gaped in astonishment. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Snape was more protective of his Slytherins than a mother dragon with only one egg, but it seemed like he wasn’t even upset about what Harry had done to Draco. 

“You will have to be punished, of course. Detention, until the end of the year.”

Harry didn’t even argue. He was shocked that Snape was being so calm about this; he’d nearly killed Malfoy. He almost wished that his punishment was more severe. He deserved it. 

“And that will mean an end to your Quidditch career.”

“No!” Harry gasped, conflicted. He’d always known that Snape was jealous Gryffindor’s success on the Quidditch pitch and he was going to use this as an excuse to get Harry to stop playing. “You can’t do that!”

“You don’t think that a fitting punishment for attempted murder?” Snape asked, his voice deceptively mild. 

Harry had to look away. As much as he hated to admit it, or even think it, he had very nearly killed Malfoy today. The fact that Snape wasn’t spitting angrily at him was actually making him feel even worse.


	6. Chapter 6

“Harry!” Ron and Hermione both yelled out simultaneously as soon as he stepped into the Gryffindor Common Room. The rest of the room fell silent and almost everyone turned round to look at him. 

“Are you alright, mate?”

“Everyone’s saying that you and Malfoy got into a terrible fight and that you nearly killed Malfoy! Tell me it’s not true!”

Harry smiled tightly at his two worried friends, trying to put the image of Malfoy’s bloody body from his mind. 

“We got into a fight. But it wasn’t anything that much worse than usual.”

The chatter around the Common Room picked up and Harry stopped feeling like he was the centre of everyone in the room’s attention. 

“Myrtle has been telling everyone that you used some spell she’d never even heard of and it made all of Malfoy’s blood come out of his body!” Hermione whispered furiously. Harry led the three of them over to a secluded corner of the Common Room. 

“It wasn’t like that -,” Harry began, but Ron interrupted him.

“See! I told you, you shouldn’t listen to Myrtle. You know what she’s like!”

“But it was one of the Prince’s spells, wasn’t it Harry?”

Hermione and Ron both looked at him expectantly. Harry hung his head, ashamed of himself for ever trusting the Prince and ashamed of the Prince for writing such a spell in the first place. 

“It just said ‘For enemies’ next to it. I didn’t know what it it was going to do. Plus, I’m pretty sure that Malfoy was about to kill me.” 

Harry didn’t need to look up at his friends to see them exchange knowing looks. 

“Well, this just proves it. You have to get rid of that book.”

“Wait a second - ,” Ron began, but this time Harry interrupted him. 

“No, I don’t. Snape found us, Malfoy and me, and he took Malfoy to the Hospital Wing. He found the book,” Harry heard Ron gasp in horror but he continued, “And he was fine with it. He’s given me detentions till the end of term.”

“What? Professor Sn - Harry, that doesn’t make any sense. He hates you! Why would he be fine with you cheating?”

“Cos its not cheating,” Ron said, defending Harry, “And if even old Snape thinks its not cheating then, maybe, you should too, and stop whinging about it.”

Hermione crossed her arms angrily. 

“I’m going to miss the Quidditch game,” Harry said somberly. Ron’s mouth fell open in astonishment.

“He can’t do that! Complain to Dumbledore! That bastard - “

“No..I. It’s fine,” Harry said, looking at his feet. He didn’t want to tell his friends that he was almost relived to be missing the game. Snape hadn’t cared about the Princes’ book at all, but Harry knew that he deserved to be punished for what he’d done to Malfoy. Hermione was looking at him shrewdly, and Harry knew that she was thinking that he hadn’t been punished enough. Harry agreed with her. 

“I’m going to bed. Get an early night,” Harry muttered, not looking at Hermione’s accusing eyes. Ron patted him on the back as he walked away. A few of the younger years were still watching him with wide, suspicious eyes and Harry just wanted to hide away. It did feel good to get back to his dorm, but he decided to have a quick shower before bed. 

At that time of night the bathroom was completely deserted. Harry could shower for as long as he wanted without anyone banging on the door of his stall, asking if he was going to be much longer. Usually he would have enjoyed the chance to relax under the warm water, but there was too much on his mind. There seemed to be so much more to being an omega than he’d originally suspected and there wasn’t any way to get the information himself. Then there was Malfoy, Harry didn’t think he’d ever forget that awful feeling when he’d truly believed that the other boy was dead. 

Harry turned the shower off and stepped out of the cubicle. Normally he would avoid being naked in the bathroom. Most of the other boys didn’t care if everyone saw them naked, but Harry usually made sure that he wrapped himself up in towels before leaving his shower stall. Tonight, as there was no-one around, he hadn’t bothered. So, when he stepped out into the bathroom, he was confronted by the sight of his own naked body, reflected from one of the mirrors on the wall. 

He never really looked at himself. Most mornings, he barely glance in the mirror to check that his hair was presentable and that his lips weren’t smeared with toothpaste. 

He stared at his crotch. His penis still looked smaller than it used to. He’d been so successful at putting off thinking about it. He was desperately hoping that it would just grow back by itself. 

There was still a little dark patch of pubic hair just above his penis, but other than that his body looked entirely smooth. Even his armpits only had a smattering of downy hair. Harry turned away and dried himself quickly. These changes to his body had to be because he was an omega now, and this was definitely better than the alternative. It was better to be an omega than to be a Horcrux. 

It was just that he’d never had that much body hair, and he’d always been embarrassed about it and now he wasn’t sure he would ever grow any. Ron, from the sideways glances that Harry had sneaked, had a huge clump of ginger pubes. It was so unfair. 

It made him feel like he wasn’t manly. He wasn’t a little boy any more. He’d kissed a girl. He was a man, but his body looked painfully boyish. 

Harry heard footsteps coming towards the bathroom and he pulled on his pajamas as quickly as he could. Neville opened the door. He was another boy who didn’t like to walk around the bathroom naked, and Harry was sure that Neville was showering now so that he could have the bathroom to himself. 

“Hiya, Neville. I’m just off.”

“Oh, thanks. Erm, I heard the rumour about you and Malfoy, but I knew it wasn’t true. You’d never do that to someone. Gossip always makes things sound way worse than they really are.”

“Thanks, Neville. Snape’s still given me loads of detentions.” 

“Oh, Sorry. I thought Snape had been getting better recently.” 

“Huh, what do you mean?”

“Well, he doesn’t yell like he used to. He hasn’t given me a single detention in weeks, actually he hasn’t even taken any house points off me, which is pretty amazing. I thought he must be getting old, losing his nerve, you know?”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Harry said, frowning as he picked up his things, “Goodnight, Neville.” 

“Night, Harry,” Neville called after him, but Harry was already lost in thought. Had Snape’s behaviour really been changing recently? Certainly he was different around Harry, but they had been putting a lot of effort into getting on. Was the bond affecting Snape’s personality, in the same way as it was effecting Harry’s body?

Harry was lost in thought as he climbed into bed. In the morning he’d have Defense Against the Dark Arts and he was not looking forward to seeing either Malfoy or Harper. However, by the next morning, he’d forgotten his concerns. Snape had his full attention.

There was something very different about Snape today. He looked healthier, his skin was still pale but it lacked its usual sallowness. His hair, usually clumpy with grease, seemed to be less lanky. Even his teeth didn’t seem as yellow as they usually did. Harry watched in amazement as Snape let them into the classroom. In fact, he was so busy staring at Snape that he forgot to open his textbook. Snape didn’t even yell at him. 

Malfoy wasn’t in class. No-one said anything about his absence so Harry assumed he was still in the Hospital Wing. Pansy Parkinson shot Harry an angry look, her eyes red rimmed from crying. The class began and Harry started paying attention to how Snape was treating the other Gryffindors. It did seem like Neville was right; Snape did seem to be going a lot easier on them than he usually did. 

Ten minutes into the lesson, the classroom door swung open, even though no-one had knocked. 

“Professor,” Malfoy called out smugly as he stepped into the room. “Madam Pomfrey only just let me leave the Infirmary. I hope you don’t mind that I’m late.” From his tone it didn’t seem like Malfoy cared about whether or not he’d offended Snape. It was very curious, but Harry was far more interested in studying Malfoy’s face. There didn’t seem to be any scars, or any indication at all of the terrible damage that Harry had done to the other boy. 

Snape paused his lecture and looked blankly at Malfoy. He paused for so long that people began to look back and forth between Malfoy and Snape, expecting to see something interesting. 

“Very well, Mr Malfoy,” Snape inclined his head very slightly. “You may join us.”

Beside him, Ron shot Harry a bemused look. Malfoy wasn’t as amused by Snape’s behaviour; he glared and went to the back of the class to sit next to Harper and Snape continued talking. 

It was, Harry thought, as he jotted down some of the points Snape was making, a rather enjoyable lesson. Snape was almost as good a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as Professor Lupin had been. It was a shame that he’d been teaching Potions for so long, his talent had definitely been wasted. Of course, a good part of the reason that Harry was able to enjoy his classes was because he wasn’t continually picking on Harry.

The class had finished and Harry was packing up his books when someone bumped into him from behind. Harry was pushed forward roughly and he sprawled painfully over his desk, his books clattering to the floor. 

“Oi, watch it!” Ron yelled angrily. 

“Harper!” Snape snarled, materialising beside Harry’s desk. “Did I not make myself clear previously?”

Harry stood up and turned to see that it was Harper, the older brother of the boy who had been expelled who was standing behind him. He must have pushed Harry over deliberately. Did he blame Harry for his little brother’s expulsion?

“Sir!” Harper’s jaw was clenched but he seemed to deflate when confronted with Snape’s anger. “It was an accident, sir.”

“Just so, Mr Harper. Any more accidents and your Hogwarts career will end the same way as your brother’s.”

Harper nodded abruptly.

“My apologies, Potter,” Harper said without looking at Harry and looking like he was having his teeth pulled out.

“That’s alright,” Harry said in amazement. Ron was grinning madly, looking as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. Harper stomped away but ,when Harry turned to leave, Snape grabbed his wrist. His fingers felt hot against Harry’s skin, encircling his entire wrist easily.

“You have detention tonight, Potter. I expect you to be on time.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, looking down at Snape’s hand rather than having to see the intensity of Snape’s dark eyes. 

“Pick your books up,” Snape muttered, releasing him. Harry didn’t bother answering, he just turned and bent over, reaching for his books. Behind him, he thought he heard a low growl. Ron bent over too and helped Harry gather up his things. Neither of them bothered trying to put the books into Harry’s bag. As soon as they’d picked everything up off the ground they fled the classroom. Harry looked back before the classroom door closed. Snape was still standing next to Harry’s desk, staring at the floor as if he’d been Petrified. 

“Merlin! That was amazing!” Ron laughed, “Old Snape making a _Slytherin_ apologise to you! I had to pinch myself, I thought I was dreaming!” 

Harry smiled shyly. Snape had defended him again. 

“Oh, Gods,” Ron continued, “I can’t wait to tell Hermione. She’ll never believe this!”

Harry quietly agreed with him. 

“You don’t reckon he was angry about his brother getting expelled and pushed you on purpose?” Ron stopped laughing. Harry made a vague noise, he couldn’t tell Ron anything about his fight with the younger alpha. Not without explaining that he was an omega. 

“Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Ron echoed, “Course, his brother getting expelled was nothing to do with you. But then, you know, these Pureblood obsessed types. They’re all crazy, who knows why they do anything?” 

Hermione, who had missed the whole episode because of her eagerness to get to her next class, did not find the story as interesting as Ron had thought she would. 

“Professor Snape is a teacher, Ron,” she said primly after Ron had finished telling her the story over lunch. “Of course he’d tell a student off for pushing someone over.”

“Hermione! This isn’t a normal teacher we’re talking about!” Ron argued with his mouth half-full of mashed potato. “This is the world’s biggest git!”

“Really, Ron, he’s not that bad. What do you think, Harry?”

Harry glanced up at the High Table. Snape was busy looking down at his food, scowling heavily as he tried to eat whilst McGonagall talked to him. 

“I suppose. I’d like him better if he didn’t give out so many detentions.”

Ron made a shocked noise. 

“But Harry, how can you like him at all? We’re going to lose the Quidditch because of him!”

“No,” Hermione jumped in, “Harry’s not playing Quidditch because he’s in detention for something he did wrong. You can’t blame Snape for that!”

Ron gave her a look that clearly stated that he thought she’d gone completely batty, but diplomatically put some more mashed potatoes in his mouth and kept silent. Hermione, Harry thought, was not taking Snape’s acceptance of the Prince’s book at all well. 

That evening Harry knocked on the door of Snape’s office with a lighter heart than he’d ever had before. He was almost looking forward to spending time in Snape’s cosy quarters. Snape opened the door wordlessly and didn’t greet Harry at all. He just turned and led them through to his quarters. Harry followed after him, closing the door behind him without looking round; he was mesmerised by Snape’s hair. It shone healthily. It looked a little like Cho’s used to. 

Harry sat down without being prompted as Snape went to the kitchen to make some tea. When he returned there was a tray hovering in front of him. There were two cups of the tea that Snape usually served as well as a plate of treacle tarts. They were his favourite. Did Snape know how much he liked them, or had it been a lucky guess?

Snape sat beside him and, taking his free hand, entwined their fingers. For a moment Harry was startled; he’d forgotten what he was doing down here in the first place. He’d become so used to socialising with Snape that he barely gave any thought to making sure the bond didn’t fail these days.

“I am concerned that, despite our previous endeavours, the bond is still at risk. We must progress beyond hand holding.”

“Like, like what, sir?” Harry gulped, nearly letting go of Snape’s hand.

“Harry,” Snape sighed, “You are still not using my name.”

“Severus.” It still felt weird in his mouth and Harry couldn’t look Snape in the face as he said it. 

“I’m not proposing anything too taxing. More time spent in my chambers. Massages similar to the one I gave you the other day.”

Harry couldn’t help flinching. He didn’t want Snape touching his neck and making him relax again; it was far too good a feeling and he didn’t want anything that good to come from someone as ugly as Snape. Or any man, come to think of it. No matter how nice Snape was these days, he did not want to be incapacitated in front of him. 

“How do you know the bond is at risk? I haven’t felt anything.”

Harry thought it was a valid question, but Snape’s tunnel-like eyes glittered dangerously.

“These meetings may be extra-curricular, but I am still your teacher and I expect your complete, unquestioning obedience,” Snape bit out. He turned, looking like he was trying to calm down, picked up a cup of tea and put it into Harry’s hands. “I will be careful to avoid your scruff - “

“My what?” Harry interrupted. Severus glared at him, but didn’t look as angry as Harry would have expected. He pursed his lips slightly before explaining.

“Your scruff. The nape of your neck. I have detected no problems with the bond, however we should make sure the bond is properly cemented before you leave for the summer.”

“But, but you said that I could spend the summer at Grimmauld Place! That we’d spend the summer together there!” Harry whined reproachfully, he couldn’t help it; he’d been hoping that he wouldn’t have to go back to Privet Drive. He’d been such a fool. Of course, this was Snape! He didn’t care if Harry went back to his Aunt and Uncle. Harry shook his head, trying to stop the wave of disappointment. He’d been so excited thinking that he wouldn’t have to go back there. He shook his head again; when had he started trusting Snape’s word? 

“I said it was a possibility, boy,” Snape said sharply, but when he continued his voice had lost its edge. “I had hoped that it would not be necessary to send you to Privet Drive. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord’s plans have been brought forward and I shall not be able to supervise you over the summer.”

“What plans? What’s he doing? Is something going to happen over the summer?”

“Harry, the Dark Lord’s plans are no concern of yours,” Snape said, a steely quality in his voice and Harry knew he wasn’t going to tell him anything. In the past he would have got angry at the man, but he couldn’t summon up that kind of anger anymore. He was annoyed, but he wasn’t going to start yelling at his professor, as he might have done in the past. Snape was a secretive git, he knew that. The man was a spy. He wasn’t going to tell Harry anything. “Come, have a tart.” Snape’s said, clearly trying to be conciliatory, but he was too stiff and tense. “Your house-elf told me that they were your favourite.”

“I don’t have a house-elf,” Harry muttered, still annoyed.

“Well, he certainly believes he’s yours. You liberated him from Lucius Malfoy.”

“Dobby? You spoke to Dobby?” Harry asked in confusion; he was flabberghasted. It was such a thoughtful thing to do, but Snape was just sitting there looking unruffled. Surely it wasn’t normal for a host to go to so much effort just to make sure he was serving his guests their favourite snacks. His mind boggled at the mental image of Snape deigning to speak to a house-elf!

He put his tea down and slowly reached for a treacle tart before nibbling it cautiously. There was definitely something going on here and he wasn’t sure what. Snape’s behaviour was far too nice. 

Snape was watching him eat, his piercing eyes far too close for comfort. Harry was uncomfortably aware of the noise he made as chewed. Snape’s eyes watched his throat as he swallowed as quietly as he could. Harry licked some crumbs off his lips and Snape watched the movement of his tongue as it poked out. In the past Harry would have assumed that Snape had poisoned the tarts and he was making sure that he ate the whole thing down, but now he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He frowned; he’d really like another treacle tart, but he didn’t like being watched so closely as he ate. It was enough to kill his appetite. 

Neither of them spoke and the silence stretched out. It wasn’t a particularly comfortable silence, but at least the strong scent of alpha stopped Harry from feeling on edge.

“Why was Malfoy about to curse you?” Snape burst out suddenly. 

“I walked in on him crying in the bathroom,” Harry said, surprised at the question. Snape squeezed his hand so hard that the joints of his knuckles rubbed together and he winced in pain. 

“You had arranged to meet him in a bathroom?”

“Ew, no! I don’t actually talk to Malfoy!” Harry said, yelping as Snape’s grip tightened further. If he didn’t let go soon then Harry’s hand was going to be covered in bruises. “I just heard someone crying and I went to see who it was. As soon as he saw me he got really angry and I’m sure he was about to use the Killing Curse on me!” Harry regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. This was Snape; he’d never believe something so terrible of one of his precious House. But Snape nodded calmly, as if he entirely believed what Harry had told him. 

“Alphas are often more aggressive to other alphas than they are to betas. Have you had any problems with alphas beside Malfoy and Harper?”

“No, s-Severus.”

Snape nodded and looked at the fire, his hair swing down to cover his face. It looked even nicer up close. Harry wished his hair would sit like that, like a shimmering curtain rather than a bird’s nest. 

“So, erm,” Harry began, feeling like an idiot. “Can alphas be friends with other alphas? Or are they always too aggressive? Hang on, is, is Voldemort - “ Harry broke off as Snape sharply squeezed his hand. 

“The Dark Lord!”

“Alright, alright! Is he an alpha?” Harry asked. There was no way that he was going to avoid saying Voldemort’s name; he wasn’t a coward. 

“No, he is not. Do not be so simplistic. Betas are just as capable of being murderers as anyone else. Being born an alpha does not mean that one will necessarily be Dark.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something about how there must, clearly, be some link between being Dark and being an alpha. If there wasn’t then Snape wouldn’t be the only non-Dark alpha that Dumbledore had been able to find. Snape had joined the Death Eaters and just because he’d had a change of heart and decided to become a spy didn’t change that. But he found he didn’t have the heart to say it. Snape had said how he had no respect for alphas that couldn’t rise above their natures. Had Snape succumbed to his nature when he joined the Death Eaters? 

“Professor?” Harry asked tentatively. He knew that Snape hated anyone saying Voldemort in front of him, but he had no idea why, and this was his chance to find out. Before he could continue his question, Snape reached over with his free hand and yanked the top of his ear; pinching the cartilage and giving it a hard pull upwards. “Ow!” Harry yelped.

“I have told you before, Harry. You must use my name and, if you persist in calling me anything else whilst we are in my quarters, then I will be forced to punish you.”

“That hurt!” Harry complained. It hadn’t hurt that much, but he was just so shocked that a teacher would do anything so _familiar._

“Then you should learn to use my name all the quicker. Have another treacle tart,” Snape levitated the plate of tarts up from the tray and Harry picked one. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Snape touching him like that. It wasn’t like he was really punishing him, certainly it was nothing compared to the way that Uncle Vernon punished him. If he did something wrong when he was at Privet Drive then he might be slapped, or backhanded and then dragged, often by his ear, to his room. His real punishment would be being locked in his room and not being allowed food for days on end. But none of the teachers at Hogwarts had ever given him any more taxing punishment than a few detentions. 

“It has come to my attention that the impossible may have happened,” Snape started while Harry’s mouth was still full of treacle. “I may have assigned you too many detentions and you, consequently, no longer have time to complete all your homework.”

Harry swallowed as quickly as he could, choking slightly.

“You’re going to cancel some of them?” It was true that he’d been struggling to get all his homework done, but he hadn’t thought that Snape would care about that sort of thing. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Tomorrow you will bring whatever you need to complete your homework down here with you.”

“Here? But,” Harry spluttered. He’d really thought for a second there that Snape was going to release him from some of his detentions. “But I need library books!”

“Then I suggest you get the books you need from the library before you come down here. You may even find some of the books that you require are already on my bookshelves.”

“I can touch your books?” he asked in surprise. Snape’s lower lip tightened as if he was already regretting extending the offer to Harry. 

“As long as you ask permission first.”

If it had been anyone else then Harry wouldn’t have thought it was such a big deal, but Snape seemed like the sort of person who didn’t like anyone touching his things, so he supposed that, by Snape standards, this was a very generous offer. 

“Thanks, erm, Sev’rus,” Harry said, trying to show his gratitude by using Snape’s first name, but the word felt too long and strange in his mouth and he ended up mispronouncing it because he was trying to say it too quickly. Snape’s lips twitched in a resigned, rather than annoyed way and he didn’t comment. 

“You’re welcome, Harry. Now I will give you a massage and then you may leave. Take off your jumper and your shirt.”

“I didn’t have to take off my shirt last time!” Harry said quickly. He was uncomfortable enough in his skin without Snape making any of his barbed comments. 

“No, but last time I didn’t use any salve.”

Harry pulled off his jumper and threw it over the arm of the sofa. 

“Do you have to use salve this time?” Harry asked plaintively but Snape just ignored him, instead he muttered a low _Accio_ and held out his hand. A small jar came flying through the air so quickly that Harry wasn’t sure where it had come from and landed in Snape’s hand with a heavy slap.

“Yes. Take your shirt off.”

Harry turned round and, with his back to Snape, he unbuttoned his shirt. He shrugged it off and let it fall behind him. 

“Why?”

“Do you recall, Harry,” Snape began as Harry heard the lid being taken off the jar and Snape’s fingers making a disgustingly wet sucking sound as they were dipped in unguent. “What I said about your unquestioning obedience?”

“I just don’t see why this is necessary,” Harry said, trying not to grind his teeth in annoyance. Snape might have answered, but Harry wasn’t listening anymore, because just then Snape put his hands on Harry’s shoulders. The first thing that Harry felt was the salve. Snape’s fingers were slippery, but they were felt warm and tingled with magic against his skin. Harry managed to stop himself from letting out a low moan at how delicious they felt. But then Snape’s fingers moved, rubbing small circles into his shoulders and the top of his back and down his spine and everywhere he touched was warm and tingly. Harry let out a deep breath and felt his shoulders sag down as he relaxed into Snape’s touch. Long fingers pressed into muscles, forcing out out all his tension. His head rolled forward of its own accord and Harry whimpered softly. He had to close his eyes because Snape’s fingers felt so good that he had to concentrate solely on them. 

He had no idea how long the massage lasted. He tried to stay as silent as possible, but Snape seemed to know exactly where to touch him to make him feel good. 

Finally Snape finished. Harry opened his eyes, not looking round. It was embarrassing how much he wished that Snape would continue. He certainly wasn’t going to ask the man to carry on. He could just imagine the look of disgust that must be on Snape’s face right now. It had only been a massage, but Harry hadn’t been able to stop himself making all those noises, and some of them had sounded almost indecent. It wasn’t his fault, but he didn’t want to hear whatever Snape had to say about the type of man who made those kind of noises when another man was touching him. 

“You may put your shirt back on now,” Snape said, his voice low and husky and just behind Harry’s ear. He jumped slightly. He hadn’t realised that Snape was still so close to him. 

Harry pulled it on awkwardly. If things had been awkward between him and Snape before then now it was a thousand times worse. 

“Erm, thanks, Sevrus,” Harry said, his voice muffled as he pulled on his jumper. 

“Did you enjoy it more than last time? You certainly sounded like you did. I was right. You did prefer it without your shirt on, did you not?”

He shrugged in reply, still not looking round. Snape was still far too close, his mouth too close to the back of Harry’s head.

“We shall have to repeat this tomorrow evening, shan’t we, Harry?” 

Harry finally looked round. Snape’s face was only inches away from his and he had the strangest expression. Harry had no idea what to make of it. Snape’s eyes _burned_ but the man looked as afraid as he had the night that he’d thrown himself in front of Lupin in his werewolf form to protect Harry. 

“I’d better go, Pr - Sevrus.”

Snape backed away from him slowly, maintaining eye contact all the way, like a snake deciding not to strike. 

“I expect you back at the same time tomorrow, _Harry,_ ” Snape practically purred, but Harry couldn’t work out what the man was thinking about. He gave Snape one last confused look and then got out of there as quickly as he could.


	7. Chapter 7

“Oh, Harry, where are you going? Are you taking those books to the Common Room?” Hermione asked eagerly. 

“No, I’ve got detention with Snape.”

“And you’re taking library books with you?” Hermione sounded confused. 

“Yeah, well. He’s letting me do my homework in detention.”

“Really?”

“He’s got me in detention every single night, when else can I do it?” Harry asked wryly, but Hermione was still looking at the books he was carrying with a puzzled frown.

“Yes. I suppose. I just, I always thought that Professor Snape….” her voice petered out. “It’s just it seems strange, that’s all. Him allowing you to use the Prince’s book, letting you do homework when you should be cutting up Flobberworms or something equally vile. You don’t think,” Hermione leaned in and lowered her voice. “You don’t think something’s happened to him.”

“Like what?” 

“Maybe,” she licked her top lip thoughtfully, “Maybe You-Know-Who used the Cruciatus Curse on him too many times and he’s been brain damaged.”

Harry laughed loudly, quietening down when he saw the hurt look on Hermione’s face. 

“Sorry, I don’t think there’s any need to worry. He’s still just as much of a bastard as he was before.”

“Really? Because I’ve never heard of him letting anyone do homework in his detentions before. Let alone you!”

Harry shrugged. He wished he could tell his friend the truth and he refused to think up a lie to tell her. 

“Yes, trust me, he’s still the angry git he’s always been!”

Hermione finally leaned back. 

“I miss you in the evenings,” she said quietly, before continuing in a louder voice, “So does Ron. He hates doing his homework by himself!”

“Yeah,” Harry shuffled on his feet. He hadn’t really been missing spending time with his friends, but they had missed him and he felt horribly guilty for not thinking of them more. It was true that he barely saw them outside classes and meals, and he wasn’t going to get a chance to hang out with them properly until his bond with Snape was strong enough to withstand spending the summer apart. Knowing Snape, that meant that he was going to have detention every night right up until the end of term. Hopefully he’d spend at least a little of the summer at Grimmauld Place or the Burrow, but if he didn’t then he wouldn’t get to hang out with his friends until next term. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not you fault. I’m just being sentimental. Just make sure that you return that Postlepott book. The red one you’ve checked out. I need to read that one.”

Harry grinned. 

“Of course. I’ll give it to you later, if you’re still up when I get back from Snape’s.”

Hermione gave him a bemused smile.

“Snape’s?” she giggled just as Harry realised what he’d said. No-one could know that he was going to Snape’s quarters. It would raise too many questions.

“You know what I mean. He’s such a dungeon bat, I’m pretty sure he thinks of the dungeons as his,” he garbled, it must be so obvious to Hermione that he was lying, but she just smiled a little wider and shook her head as if she was amused despite herself. 

“I suppose. I’ll see you later then, Harry,” she said, turning to go into the library. Harry ducked his head. He hadn’t exactly lied to his friend, but he hated not being honest with her. 

Snape was waiting for him in his office. Harry was getting used to Snape not greeting him, but just wordlessly leading him into his quarters.

When he stepped though to Snape’s sitting room he saw that the man had gone to even more trouble than he had before. On the table in front of the sofa there was a pot of tea, a tray of tarts and a plate of sandwiches. 

“Sit. Eat.”

Harry paused in the act of putting his book bag on the floor. The table of food reminded him painfully of Hermione’s comment the other day about his weight.

“I’m not thin,” Harry snapped; they’d been doing so well at not arguing but he wasn’t going to tolerate any snide comments about his physique, especially not from someone as thin as Snape.

“You are an omega and you have the body of one,” Snape answered, looking genuinely startled by Harry’s angry comment. Harry gave a him a long considering look; he was very used to Snape’s anger in all it’s various stages from mild fury to incandescent with murderous rage. He was used to Snape’s blank expressions and, very occasionally, his smug smiles. But seeing the man startled was an almost human reaction and it was odd to see it on Snape’s face. He really was spending far too much time with his teacher. 

He sat on the sofa and picked up one of the sandwiches.

Unlike the sandwiches that the house-elves usually made, which were always perfectly triangular, these looked slightly less than perfect and they’d been cut into squares. The crusts of the bread weren’t perfectly aligned; they looked like they’d been made by someone who didn’t care as much about sandwich symmetry as house-elves did. Surely, Snape hadn’t made these himself, by hand? 

He dismissed the thought as he took a bite. That was impossible.

Maybe Winky had made these and was too drunk on butterbeer to care that they didn’t look perfect. That was a far more reasonable explanation. Winky must not make sandwiches very often because he’d never tasted this filling before. He pried the bread apart and saw that it was filled with a generous helping of smoked salmon. It tasted really good. He swallowed and reached for a cup of tea. 

Snape finally sat down next to him. He was definitely looking better these days. He’d always be an unfortunate looking man, but it looked like he was starting to at least take some care over his appearance. 

“You look different nowadays,” Harry said, reaching for another sandwich and making sure that it was another smoked salmon filled one.

“Different?” Snape raised an eyebrow and Harry had the distinct impression that he was being teased but he soldiered through it.

“Better. Erm. Your hair’s,” Harry stopped himself, stranded in the middle of a sentence, “Er, clean.”

Snape sipped his tea slowly whilst Harry waited for him to explode with anger at his impertinence. 

“Being exposed to so many potions fumes can have a negative effect on hair,” Snape said, smiling in that Snape like way that Harry had always just thought was a supercilious smirk. He still hadn’t reached for Harry’s hand even though Harry inched it closer to him.

“Oh, right,” Harry nodded, wondering why Snape had suddenly started bothering looking after his hair. It still needed some work. The ends curled slightly in all different directions, as if it needed a good brushing. He wondered if Snape even owned a hair brush. 

So, Snape had decided to start washing his hair. That didn’t explain why his skin and teeth looked better. Harry picked up another delicious sandwich and chewed rapidly. It wasn’t like Snape was attractive now, he was just slightly less ugly than he usually was. 

Snape’s hand was on the sofa between them, but he still hadn’t reached for Harry. His teacher’s fingers were so familiar to him. He shuffled in his seat, waiting for Snape to hold his hand. 

“I brought my homework.”

Snape’s lips tightened and he moved his hand away; crossing his legs and folding his hands neatly into his lap. There was, Harry could admit, a certain elegance to Snape. His every movement was precise and determined; from the way he strode through the halls of Hogwarts to the way his hands clasped Harry’s. It wasn’t like he wanted to hold Snape’s hand, he’d just got used to doing it and it felt strange and rather cold not doing it tonight. 

“Then you’d better get on with it.”

“Right,” Harry said, looking around. There were a few other doorways that lead out of Snape’s sitting room. He knew which way the kitchen was. Surely one of these doors would lead to a study or somewhere that had a desk or a table. Or maybe Snape just used his office anytime he wanted to use a desk.

He sighed and stood up, now was hardly the time to start exploring Snape’s flat. The coffee table would be a perfect height for him to write on if he were sitting on the floor, and the rug in front of Snape’s fire looked perfectly serviceable.

Grabbing his school bag he settled himself, crosslegged, on the rug. It was soft and fluffy and just as comfortable as Harry had assumed it would be. 

“What are you doing, P-Harry?”

Snape wasn’t quite glaring at him, but it was a near thing.

“My homework.”

“Obviously, and you intend to do it on the floor?”

Harry gave a one shouldered shrugged and got out his half-written Charms essay.

“It’s fine,” Harry said, as he smoothed out his parchment and picked up his quill. It was actually a lot nicer than fine. The fire felt warm on his back and he had tea and snacks within easy reach and no chance of Ron eating them all whilst he concentrated on his work. In fact, it felt a lot like being in his Common Room just without all the distractions that usually kept him from getting on with his homework. 

The essay was still a good six inches short but Harry wasn’t sure what else there was to say about the relative merits of Strengthening Charms. He reread what he’d already written, correcting a few spelling mistakes and then gazed down at the empty parchment trying to think of anything else to write. 

“Don’t suck your quill!” Snape snapped suddenly. Harry looked up, startled, and saw that Snape was still sitting on the sofa. Whilst Harry had been concentrating on his essay Snape gone and got himself a book as there was one open on his lap, but he wasn’t reading it. He was just glaring angrily at Harry.

Harry took the end of his quill out of his mouth. He hadn’t even realised he’d been doing it, it was an unconscious habit, like chewing the end of his pencil back in primary school. The end of the feather was damp with his saliva and sticking together; he supposed it did look a bit disgusting, but he was so used to everyone doing it that he’d never really thought about it before. That didn’t stop a twang of annoyance that Snape was still telling him what to do, when they were supposed to be trying to get on. 

“Everyone else does it,” Harry muttered, staring at his blank parchment. He was expecting them to lapse back into silence.

“What - what homework are you doing?” Snape said, sounding like he was actually interested. Harry’s head shot up in surprise.

“Charms. I’m trying to think of - “ Harry paused. Snape had only asked him what subject he was studying, yet he was voluntarily giving him more information; voluntarily engaging Snape in conversation when he didn’t have to. Snape didn’t seem annoyed though, he was just watching Harry expectantly. “Er, the problems caused by using Strengthening Charms and how to stop them.”

Snape leaned back slowly.

“And?”

Harry frowned. It wasn’t like he wanted Snape’s help, but he certainly didn’t want the man to start interrogating him. He’d had enough of that in five years of Potions and more than two terms worth of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“And what, Sevrus?” Harry asked, knowing he was pushing his luck. Snape raised his eyebrow, like he was amused by Harry rather than angered. 

“What are the problems with Strengthening Charms? Indeed with all but the strongest of Charms?”

Harry’s heart sank. He had no idea and this was just going to be another excuse for Snape to call him stupid.

“I dunno. Charms don’t last very long.”

“Exactly. There is a way to extend the length of the Charm,” Snape gave an annoyed grunt and stood up, striding over to his bookshelves. With his back to Harry, and his robes falling loosely, he looked as much like a bat as ever. Of course, Harry had always known that Snape was ugly, but for the first time he felt a little uncharitable for thinking it. After all, the man was apparently going to help him with his homework. 

“Here,” Snape said striding over and towering above him. Harry reached up and took the book. His face was level with Snape’s black trousered thigh and he couldn’t help but feel awkward. Harry leaned back so that he could see up the length of Snape’s body to his face. “Chapter six discusses potions which are useful when used in conjunction with certain Charms.”

Of course, this was Snape. He couldn’t just be helpful and give Harry the answer, he was helping him in the same way Hermione did and just telling him what to read. Harry sighed, it was still far more than he’d expected. 

“Thank you, Sevrus,” he smiled as widely as he could bring himself to smiled at Snape, which turned out to be a small upward twitch of his lips. Snape blinked down his nose at him like he’d just done something he thought even stupider than usual. 

“You’re welcome...Harry.”

The chapter that Snape had recommended wasn’t particularly long but it was actually quite fun to read and there was loads of material that he could use for his essay. For the next twenty minutes he was completely occupied by his homework. He finished his essay with a twirl of his quill and looked up to find Snape was still sitting and reading. 

He packed up his homework, glancing occasionally at Snape who was, despite the open book, sitting preternaturally still. He didn’t turn a page the whole time that Harry was aware of him.

“I’ve been thinking,” Harry began. Snape’s eyes snapped up to his at once and he felt again the oddness of willingly engaging Snape in conversation. “About my neck.”

Snape didn’t say anything and there was something rather mesmerising about being the sole focus of Snape’s attention. 

“Yeah, so I tried it with someone else, to see if I, you know. It didn’t work.”

“Tried what, exactly?” Snape eyes narrowed and his enunciation was very precise as if he was in the middle of one of his rages.

“Getting someone to touch my neck to see if I, you know -”

“Who?” Snape demanded, leaning forward. Harry frowned and blinked, wondering why it mattered to Snape. He supposed that it mattered as part of the experiment. Maybe Snape had affected him because he was an alpha, rather then the bond and Harry should have tried with another alpha.. Except he didn’t know any alphas that he trusted to touch his neck . Something clicked inside Harry’s head and suddenly sympathised with Dumbledore. There weren’t any trustworthy alphas, apart from Snape. 

“She’s not an alpha.”

Snape looked like he wanted to strangle Harry which seemed unfair.

“Ginny Weasley.”

“You told her about your scruff reflex?”

Harry blinked slowly as he worked out what Snape was talking about, when he did he reacted vehemently.

“No, of course not! It was just a massage, just like you give me.”

Snape’s eyes blazed and he slammed the book on his lap shut with a loud bang. 

“I had no idea that you would need to spend such a ridiculously long time on your homework. We have run out of time. Leave, Potter. Don’t come back until Friday evening.”

“Sevrus?” Harry asked in confusion, standing slowly and slinging his school bag over his shoulder. 

“Is it so difficult to understand? I am tired of this farce. Get out.”

Harry hesitated. It was obvious that Snape was angry, and that was why he was telling Harry to leave. It was ridiculous but he felt a twinge of guilt for getting a massage from somebody else. He stomped the feeling down; he had no reason to feel guilty. It was none of Snape’s business what he got up to in his free time. But then he was struck by something else; if Snape thought he could just cancel these meetings whenever he felt like it and it wouldn’t affect the bond, then maybe Harry could too. He bit his lip in a rush of hope.

“Look, I think we’re doing really well with the bond. Everything feels fine to me, so, I was wondering, if we could cancel our Saturday meeting.”

“Really?” Snape seethed. Harry knew it had been too much to hope that Snape would let him play in Saturday’s Quidditch match, but he had to try. “Do you have better things to do than ensuring you are safe from the Dark Lord’s clutches?”

“No! But if the bond is doing alright,” Harry began, trying to stay calm in the face of Snape’s unreasonableness. “Then maybe it would be okay if I played in the - “

“You nearly killed a fellow student and you think that, as a reward, you should be allowed to show off in front of the entire school?”

Harry’s first instinct was to duck his head in shame. He did deserve to be punished for what he’d done to Malfoy. Then he remembered that Snape wasn’t actually punishing him, these meetings were supposed to be about the bond but Snape was just cancelling arbitrarily because he was angry with Harry for absolutely no logical reason. Snape’s behaviour was just as petty and vindictive as it had always been, it was just that nowadays his horrible, bullying behaviour was accompanied by a nice cup of tea. 

With that thought, he turned on his heel and marched out of Snape’s sitting room. He expected Snape to yell at him, to tell him to stop and to tell him leaving like this was rude. But the door slammed behind Harry and there there was no noise from Snape.

The following day was Thursday and, without the spectre of a meeting with Snape to fill his evening, Harry wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Somehow his time spent with Snape had become part of his day and the evening stretched out emptily in front of him. It wasn’t like he missed Snape himself, just his cosy quarters and the space to relax in the evening. He ended up in the library, doing his homework by himself. He sort of wanted a cup of Snape’s hot, citrusy tea but he didn’t know what it was called so he couldn’t go and ask the house-elves for any. 

Snape didn’t seem at all affected by their evening apart. He didn’t look at Harry once during meals, although he was looking noticeably healthier each day. Harry wondered if anyone else had noticed the changes and he finally asked Hermione at the start of their last class on Friday.

“Have you noticed anything odd about Snape?”

“Professor Snape, Harry! No..I mean, just what we talked about the other day.”

“He’s not brain damaged!” Harry lowered his voice as Professor Flitwick came into the classroom.

“Neville was trying to tell me something about that - “ Ron interrupted loudly, leaning over to join in their conversation.

“Settle down, class, settle down!” Professor Flitwick squeaked loudly and most of the class fell silent.

“No, I mean, the way he looks. I mean, he’s more -” Harry whispered as Professor Flitwick started giving back yesterday’s homework. Hermione gave him an odd look but then her eyes widened dramatically. Turning to see what had shocked her so much he saw Professor Flitwick, holding his homework. At the top of the parchment there was a large ‘O’.

“Mr Potter,” Professor Flitwick enthused happily, “This was excellent work. Five points to Gryffindor. Your mention of the Epigoni Elixir! My, my, that was outstanding. Of course some would argue that a potion like Epigoni isn’t worth the after-effects that increase the potency of any subsequent Charms cast, but still a remarkable piece of work. Well done!”

“You got an Outstanding because you mentioned an obscure potion?” Hermione whispered furiously, her lips already thinning in anger. “And did you think of that all by yourself too, Harry?”

“Got it from a library book actually, Hermione.” Harry lied. It wasn’t like he could tell her the truth, but he knew she’d just assume that he got the information from the Prince and he didn’t want her to be even angrier at the Prince’s book than she should be.

She gave him a searching look and whatever she saw on her face made her calm down a little.

“Oh, well,” she blushed a little, but Harry wasn’t sure if it was a result of her sudden pique of anger or just embarrassment, “Sorry. That’s really well done of you, Harry. Congratulations.”

Flitwick passed by them again, this time putting Hermione’s marked homework down on the desk.

“Excellent as always, Miss Granger, but I just need a little bit more explanation of the core concepts, alright?” Professor Flitwick’s tone was very kind but Hermione’s jaw still clenched. Harry was sure that she hadn’t got an ‘O’ like she wanted, but he wasn’t about to embarrass her by leaning over to see for himself. Hermione didn’t look at him.

After dinner Harry walked the familiar path down to Snape’s office. The cool dungeon air smelled slightly of Snape long before Harry arrived at his office. A few Slytherins sneered at him as he passed them in the corridor. They whispered amongst themselves and laughed but Harry just rolled his eyes and kept on walking. 

Snape was in his office when Harry opened the door without bothering to knock.

“Aren’t you worried about some Slytherin working out that I’m down here every night but I’m not in the classroom or your office?”

“Good evening, Harry,” Snape said sarcastically, standing up and abandoning the parchments that he was grading with a red tipped quill. “They would assume that I have you preparing ingredients in my private laboratory.” Snape gestured towards one of the shelf covered walls. There wasn’t any sign of a doorway there.

Snape gave an exasperated sigh and reached out to touch something on one of the shelves and instantly the wall slid forward revealing a darkened corridor. Harry peered into the darkness but couldn’t see anything; it was pitch black.

“As you are so eager, perhaps we should spend the evening doing just that,” Snape stood and waved his wand so that a torch magically lit in the darkened corridor and Harry saw that there was another door further down the passageway. He had a sinking feeling that Snape was still angry with him. It was going to be a long evening of chopping up slimey potions ingredients. 

“Huh,” Harry pursed his lips. He did not want to go anywhere near a Potions lab with Snape ever again. “I brought my Transfiguration homework and there’s loads to do. I haven’t had time to even start it.” He didn’t expect that Snape would care that he really didn’t want to spend time in the potions lab but he tried to pull a worried expression as if he was really concerned about his Transfiguration homework.

Snape gave him an oddly considering look, like he actually cared about what Harry wanted to do.

“Another time then, but do not think that you are permanently excused,” Snape flicked his wand again and the torch extinguished itself and the trap door slid shut of its own accord. In a twirl of black robes Snape turned, leading Harry into his private quarters, but not before Harry caught a glimpse of smile on the man’s face. 

Harry settled himself on the rug again and got out the books he needed for his Transfiguration essay while Snape disappeared, presumably to make some tea. He was still getting out all his things when the citrusy smell of Snape’s tea wafted through to the sitting room. It mingled pleasantly with the alpha scent that permeated the room and Harry felt something in his chest unclench. There was something very peaceful about being here like this, although he’d never admit it to anyone. 

When Snape returned he set a cup of tea down on the table next to Harry’s parchment. Harry glanced up and said a quiet thanks, but Snape only nodded curtly. He’d half expected Snape to tell him to get up and sit on the sofa so that they could hold hands again, but he didn’t. Instead he chose a book from his shelves and settled down to read whilst Harry worked. Neither of them spoke and Harry found it easy to study in such a tranquil atmosphere. 

“Harry,” Snape’s voice made him jolt, he’d been completely lost in his homework which was weird because normally when he studied he always had half an ear open so that he could chat to Ron. 

“Professor?”

Snape stood and came around the table before leaning down to pinch the top of his ear.

“Will you never learn?” Snape asked softly, releasing his hold. It wasn’t up to the usual standard of Snape’s insults about his intelligence but Harry still scowled up at his teacher. It felt slightly wrong to be on the floor like this while Snape stood over him. 

“Put your things away, it’s time for your massage,” Snape said. Harry sensed more than heard Snape lowering himself to the ground. He imagined that Snape was kneeling behind him but he couldn’t bring himself to look round. He couldn’t imagine Snape doing something so undignified as kneeling on the floor and he didn’t want to see it. Not when Snape was on his knees for Harry’s benefit. He swallowed heavily and packed up his bag. 

“Do I have to take my shirt off again?”

“Use my name, Harry, and ask me again,” Snape’s voice came from just behind him.

“Erm, Sevrus. Severus, can I leave my clothes on?” Harry stammered out before blushing heavily. That sounded almost indecent and Harry shrank forward in embarrassment. 

“No,” Snape said slowly, the single word rumbling out of his mouth so that it sounded inhuman. “Strip.”

Harry pulled his jumper off and unbuttoned his shirt. He shrugged his shoulders, intending to let the garment fall to the ground, but he felt Snape’s knuckles rub against his back and his shirt fell off him quickly as Snape helped him take it off.

He didn’t hear Snape Summon his salve, but he he saw it soaring through the air towards them and he ducked instinctively. Snape caught it with a loud slap of glass against skin that seemed obscenely loud in the quiet of the sitting room. He knew what was about to happen, he knew what it was going to feel like but he felt unaccountably nervous. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach and he looked around suddenly and caught sight of Snape’s face.

The expression he saw there was one he’d never seen on the man’s face before; it was almost reverent. Harry turned away guiltily; he felt like he’d intruded on Snape by seeing him look like that.

Snape still hadn’t touched him and Harry thought he must be drawing this out as some sort of torture. His breath quickened as he waited.

“Sevrus,” Harry said, his voice high.

“Hush,” Snape said, which struck Harry as odd but then Snape’s hands descended and he couldn’t think about anything else. The salve tingled as it had last time and Harry let out a sigh of relief that somehow came out as a strangled moan. Snape’s hands felt so large against him, as if they could cradle the entirety of his back. He pushed back wanting Snape to push into his muscles and make him feel as good as he had before. Snape stilled suddenly.

“Remember who is in charge here, Harry,” Snape whispered. His breath felt cold against the damp salve on Harry’s back and he let out a low moan that was part response and part frustration. Snape must have finally learnt what pity was because just then he began to massage Harry properly. Pushing into his muscles as he rubbed circles into Harry’s back so forcefully that Harry felt the air pushed out of his lungs and he had to remember to breath, sucking in air as deeply as he could.

Suddenly Snape stopped, removing his hands from Harry entirely and standing quickly. For a second Harry assumed that someone had intruded on them, but there was no one else there. Instead there was just Snape, who seemed to be trying to get as far from Harry as possible. He was practically on the other side of the room and he was still backing away.

“Sevrus?” Harry asked in confusion, “Are we finished?” 

Harry shifted slightly and became aware of the most uncomfortable of feelings. His arse felt damp. 

“Yes,” Snape hissed, looking even paler than he normally did. Harry pulled on his clothes in relief and left as quickly as he could. With every step he took he felt his arse cheeks rubbing together sloppily. Merlin, he thought he might just die of embarrassment. As soon as he left Snape’s office he started running to the nearest toilet. 

His pants didn’t look soiled. For as damp as he felt there wasn’t much actual wetness. He cleaned himself furiously but the sticky stuff in between his arse cheeks was as clear as water, although it was a lot more viscous and slippery. 

Harry leaned his forehead against the toilet stall wall. This had to be another feature of being an omega. Yet another thing that no-one had warned him about. It was disgusting, but it had to be better than being a Horcrux. Harry clung onto that thought as he cleaned himself up.

Ron was still up when he got back to the Common Room. His friend was staring glumly into the fire. 

“Oh, hi, Harry. I’ve been thinking,” Ron began, oblivious to how physically uncomfortable Harry was. His arse still didn’t feel clean and he shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “I don’t think I can be goalie anymore. I’ll play tomorrow, but...I love Quidditch, but playing for Gryffindor is different from playing in the back garden with family, or tossing a Quaffle around with you when no-one’s watching. It’s too much pressure and not enough fun, you know?”

Harry patted his friend on the back. He really wanted to take a quick shower before he went to bed and, as much as he wanted to cheer Ron up, it was difficult to say the right words when all he could think about was how dirty he felt. 

“Ron. You’re on the team because you’re the best player. You deserve to be there and if you quit then everyone would miss you.”

Ron looked at him doubtfully.

“Whatever happens tomorrow you have to remember that you’re the best goalie Gryffindor has. Now, come on. You’ve got to get a good night’s sleep before a game.”

“I guess,” Ron agreed morosely and followed Harry up to the boy’s dorms. Harry felt a little bad for not spending more time cheering Ron up, but the stickiness of his pants was driving him crazy. 

The next morning Harry got up with everyone else. He could have had a bit of a lie in, but he wanted to show support for his team. Ron looked so pale that Harry was sure he was going to vomit. Harry sat beside him at the breakfast table and tried to reassure him but Ron was unresponsive. He wasn’t even sure that Ron was able to hear what he was saying, the boy looked so wrapped up in his own misery.

Harry glanced up at the High Table and saw that Snape was watching him clinically. His eyes seemed fastened on Harry’s arm, slung casually around Ron’s shoulders. Harry clung to his friend more tightly and continued trying to encourage him out his funk right up until the team had to leave. 

The Great Hall emptied fairly quickly as everyone wanted to get a good seat for today’s game. Harry was in hurry to move though. He’d spent so much time trying to help Ron that he’d barely eaten and now his porridge was cold and unappetizing as he poked it with his spoon.

“Potter! You have a detention, why are you not already in the dungeons?” Snape said angrily, his voice carrying in the nearly empty Hall. Harry looked up and saw Snape was bearing down on him, striding rapidly towards the the Gryffindor table. 

“I haven’t finished my breakfast, sir,” Harry complained. He doubted that Snape cared but he was actually quite hungry. Snape sneered down at the mess he’d made of his uneaten food.

“You have eaten quite enough of that, Potter. I’m sure you’ll find your detention just as fulfilling. Come along now.”

Harry wasn’t exactly sure what Snape meant. His tone had been the sneer of his nasty Professor, but the words themselves could have been a coded way of saying that Harry could eat breakfast in the dungeons. He didn’t have long to think about it because Snape was already striding away and Harry had to hurry to catch up with him.

“Today,” Snape said as soon as his office door shut behind Harry, “We shall be working on a potion. Are you still hungry?”

“I’m fine,” Harry said, a little defensively. Admitting he was hungry felt like admitting a weakness and he refused to do that in front of Snape. His teacher pivoted on his heel and took them into his quarters. Harry followed, stopping next to Snape’s leather sofa, but Snape himself kept on walking and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Harry! Hurry up,” Snape called out and Harry hurried forward into the next room. It felt odd to leave the sitting room and he was suddenly aware of a line being crossed. Snape was his teacher, yet Harry was stepping into his personal life in a way he hadn’t understood before. 

“Sit down,” Snape said gruffly. He looked around and saw a small table tucked into a nook in the corner of the kitchen. Sitting down, he still felt awkward. He couldn’t even imagine being in this situation with McGonagall or Flitwick. Snape was a member of the Order, and their meetings had a purpose, but he fidgeted and didn’t look too closely at the cupboards that Snape was opening noisily. 

Snape put down a plate with thick slices of buttered toast and a small jar of something that he was clearly supposed to think was jam. He peered at it, sure that he recognised the substance as something that Snape usually kept on his shelf of potions ingredients. Harry bit into the warm, golden toast without touching the supposed jam.

Snape sat down opposite him and Harry paused, mid-chew. There was something too _personal_ about eating like this, but Snape just raised an enquiring eyebrow which Harry ignored in favour of eating more of his toast.

“Aggy,’ Snape said in a commanding tone, causing Harry’s head to shoot up. He’d assumed that Snape was talking to him, but Snape wasn’t even looking at him. There was a small wooden door on the far side of the kitchen that Harry had thought was just another cupboard, but now it swung open, seemingly of its own accord, to reveal a Hogwart’s house-elf. The little creature hurried over to the table.

“You is calling Aggy, Professor, sir?” the house-elf squeaked in a high voice. Harry was fairly sure that Aggy was female, but he wasn’t completely sure.

“Coffee, Aggy.”

The house-elf smiled happily and clicked her fingers. A large cup of coffee appeared instantly on the table. 

“That will be all, Aggy.”

“Yeses, Professor,” she squeaked, curtsying slightly before scampering back to the little door on the other side of the kitchen.

Harry sat back slowly in his chair, abandoning his toast. If Snape could get his food and drinks served by house-elves, why did he always make Harry’s tea himself?

“Eat up, Harry,” Snape snapped when Harry opened his mouth to ask about the house-elf. “There is a lot to be done today. You will be preparing ingredients for an experimental potion that I am creating to re-animate the dead.”

“You’re trying to make Inferi!” Harry yelped, dropping his toast and leaning back in his seat.

Snape gave him an appraising look up and down before continuing.

“No,” he drawled, “This is not a Dark potion. This is intended to bring the dead back to life.”

“Really,” Harry’s interest was piqued, despite himself and his hatred of potions. “Like, like we could bring Sirius back to life?”

Snape scowled down at his coffee.

“I wasn’t aware that you had any of his corpse to re-animate.”

“No, but - “

“This is not being designed to bring any one complete person back to life. That would be impossible, however if this potion can be proven to work then the patent on this would be most profitable.”

“You, you’re doing this for the money?” he felt a twinge of disappointment, although he had no idea why. It was just another reminder that no matter how much time he spent with Snape he didn’t really know the man. “But, but think of all those people who you’re giving false hope to, telling them that you can cure death, but only technically, not in practice.”

“That is not - why is it that you can understand nothing that isn’t couched in the simplest of black and white terms? I assume you’ve eaten enough.”

Harry nodded dumbly at Snape’s sudden flare of anger and followed him as they went back to Snape’s office. He watched avidly as Snape touched a small figurine on the shelf and the trapdoor in the wall sprung open. Snape lit the torch with a wave of his wand and strode into the corridor. Harry stepped in warily and the door swung shut behind him. Briefly, he felt a thrill of claustrophobia, trapped in this tiny corridor that the flickering torch barely lit, but then Snape opened the other door and Harry saw a large, pristine potions lab.

“Fetch the pickled mandrake and dice it into 5mm cubes,” Snape commanded. Harry did as he was told, even though he really wanted to continue questioning Snape about the potion that he was trying to make. 

The two of them barely spoke again, Snape was absorbed by the various cauldrons that he was tending to, only looking up to bark new orders at Harry every few minutes. Occasionally Snape’s shoulders would sink dejectedly and Harry had the impression that his potion wasn’t going well. It was difficult to keep track of time, because there were no windows and Harry was being kept so busy. Finally, Snape seemed satisfied that they’d worked enough and he began packing away the cauldrons that he’d been working on. 

“Professor?” Harry began as they left the lab. He groaned slightly as he realised his mistake a split second before Snape grabbed his ear. “Sevrus. If all the alphas that I meet think I’m an alpha because I smell like you, then how do I smell to you? Because I don’t think I smell at all.”

Snape clicked the trapdoor shut behind them and took a step towards him, his nostrils flaring as if he was only just sniffing Harry for the first time now. 

“I don’t scent you as an alpha.”

He was awkwardly close to Harry now, but Harry didn’t move away. There was something rather enticing about being this close, about being able to smell the alpha up close like this. 

“No?” Harry heard his voice quaver slightly, although he had no idea why. It wasn’t like he was scared of Snape, but there was something predatory in the way the man was looking at him. He knew he should just leave, his detention was over and yet he was still standing in Snape’s office. 

“No.”

“I don’t think I really understand alphas. And I should, as people are thinking I am one. Do you, er, have a book about it, or anything?”

Snape’s look was almost calculating. 

“You haven’t had your massage today, would you care to have it now?”

Harry felt himself blushing, his cheeks heating up as he remembered what had happened last time Snape had had his fingers on him. He glanced down at Snape’s long fingered hands and then averted his eyes as soon as he realised what he’d done. 

He didn’t like Snape! The man was horrible, but thinking about the way that he felt whenever the man touched him was making his stomach churn excitedly.

“I don’t,” Harry began, taking a step backwards. His arse cheeks slipped against each just like they had the last time that Snape had massaged him. “I have to go.”

“Do you?” Snape took a step towards him. There was something hypnotising about the way that Snape was moving and Harry, who had never before realised how physically intimidating Snape could be, gulped loudly. He took another step backwards. He needed to get out of here, he needed to get to the bathroom but he couldn’t look away from Snape. 

“I could tell you what it is to be an alpha,”Snape said, his voice even lower than usual. Harry tried to take another step away from him but he felt the solid wood of Snape’s office door at his back and he couldn’t get any further away. His arse pressed against the wood and he was embarrassingly aware of how wet he was. 

“Sevrus,” Harry hated how weak his voice sounded. He was so embarrassed but he couldn’t look away from Snape.

“This is what it means to be an alpha,” Snape said taking a final step forward so that their chests touched and he dropped his head so that his hooked nose nuzzled at Harry’s neck, his warm breath ghosting across his skin. He was completely surrounded by the man, enveloped by him, and the man’s alpha scent was overwhelming, Harry wanted to reach out and cling onto his shoulders, but he couldn’t do that, not to a man; he wasn’t gay. And, even if he were, he wouldn’t want Snape of all people. 

“Alpha’s must always be in control,” Snape’s velvet voice was like a gentle caress, and Harry realised the man was rubbing his gigantic nose against the bite mark that he’d put on Harry. “We must always fight against the need to take, to own,” Snape pulled back, but his eyes were locked onto Harry’s lips, “To possess.”

Severus leaned forward and pressed his lips to Harry’s; he couldn’t help but gasp in astonishment and, as his lips parted, his mouth was invaded. Severus’s tongue pushed into him roughly and Harry’s whole body melted. Severus’ hands were twisting his hair and holding his head in place.This was nothing like kissing Cho had been, this was being claimed and Harry wanted it to last forever. 

Something hard rubbed against his stomach. Harry whipped his head back in astonishment as he realised what it was that he was feeling. It was Professor Snape’s hard cock. He didn’t know which was more astounding, the fact that Snape had got hard from kissing him, or the idea that Snape had a cock, that he had any kind of body at all beneath his robes. 

Snape was still staring, slack jawed, at Harry’s lips.

He pushed Snape away from him and the man staggered away weakly. Harry fled, his arse wet and chafing uncomfortably as he ran up the stairs out of the dungeon. Finally, when he was sure that Snape wasn’t following him, he slowed down. In one of the first floor bathrooms he cleaned himself up. He was washing his hands when he happened to glance up and see his own reflection. He looked the same, but he’d kissed Snape. It was almost unimaginable.

Harry’s lips tingled and he couldn’t stop himself from fingering them. They didn’t feel any different. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even remember about the Quidditch match until he turned onto the corridor where the Fat Lady hung. It was late and getting dark. The corridor was lined with long shadows and with every step Harry felt more and more guilty. All his housemates must hate him, he’d let them all down so badly; instead of playing Quidditch he’d kissed Snape.

He hung his head in shame as he approached the Fat Lady. 

“Who won?” he asked the portrait, but she gave him an expressionless look. 

“You’ll see. Password?”

Harry’s stomach plunged. It had to be really bad, if it were good news then she would have told him. The portrait swung open and Harry stepped forward, prepared for the worst.

Everyone was screaming and yelling! At first, Harry stood, his mouth gaping. Did everyone know that Snape had kissed him? Was it that obvious? Then he realised his mistake; everyone was happy! They were celebrating! Gryffindor had won the Quidditch match! Harry grinned stupidly as Ginny Weasley made her way over to him. She leaned close to him and he thought she was going to tell him something over the din of the Common Room. But she didn’t. Her lips locked onto his and she was kissing him. Harry froze, half tempted to push her back. What if she was able to tell that he’d just kissed someone else? What if she knew that it was Snape?

She pulled back and looked at him nervously. He didn’t want to disappoint her or hurt her. 

Looking round, he realised that whole Common Room had fallen silent. Everyone was looking at them. Harry’s eyes found Ron’s and he looked at his best friend beseechingly. Ron gave a curt nod of his head, although Harry had no idea what he meant. He guessed it must be some kind of permission to kiss Ginny, but Harry didn’t want Ron’s permission. He wanted his help. 

“Come on, Harry, let’s find somewhere quiet,” Ginny whispered, taking his hand and pulling him back towards the Portrait Hole. Harry let her hold his hand, it felt so strange. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him for so long, well, apart from Snape. 

“I...er..should talk to Ron first.”

Ginny frowned for a second, her pretty face crinkling in annoyance and then smoothing out. 

“I understand, I’m sure he’ll be fine. We can do this later,” she looked at him, her eyes wide and innocent, “That, that is what you want, isn’t it, Harry?”

He gulped and nodded his head. She was so very pretty. 

Everyone wanted to talk to Harry. They all had stories about the game that he had missed, or comments about the party. By the time that Harry made his way to the back of the Common Room, Ron was long gone. Harry took a swig out of bottle of butterbeer that someone had pressed into his hands. Ginny was still in front of the Portrait Hole, her long red hair shimmering as she talked to someone. She was laughing so easily, as if them kissing was the greatest thing in the world. It looked so natural for her, so easy. 

Harry sighed into his butterbeer. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Ginny, he did. But everything was so complicated at the moment. He needed more time to think. Harry looked around, and making sure that no-one was watching him, slunk up to the boy’s dormitory. Leaving his butterbeer on his bedside table, he got into bed and drew the curtains around his bed. That was much more comfortable. Harry lay back and closed his eyes, his mind returning unbidden to the memory of Snape kissing him. 

The way that he’d taken control of the kiss as if he had been taking control over Harry’s body. The way that Harry had felt what must have been Snape’s hard muscles underneath his robes. Merlin, it had felt good. 

The Prince’s book was under his pillow and his hand banged into it as he made himself comfortable. What would the Prince have thought of him? Enjoying being kissed by a man. Uncle Vernon would have called him a fairy, or a poof or something else horrid. But then Uncle Vernon hated everything about him; Harry kissing a man would just be the icing on the cake. And Harry wasn’t even gay, not really. It had only been one kiss.

Now, he’d kissed Ginny too. He tried to remember what kissing Ginny had felt like. He couldn’t remember exactly. He’d been so worried about everyone watching that all he could remember was how her lips had felt too soft. It hadn’t been unpleasant, just a bodily function that was slightly boring.

He hugged the Prince’s book to his chest as if it could comfort him, as if it were the teddy bear that he’d never had as a child. Still in his clothes, he fell asleep, only rousing slightly when his dorm mates stumbled to bed, hours later.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning he didn’t feel any more refreshed than he had the night before. It looked like most of Gryffindor had stayed up too late celebrating. Almost everyone was yawning and had bags under their eyes as Harry looked around the breakfast table. His eyes seemed drawn to the High Table where Snape sat. The man looked just as surly as ever. Harry blushed and looked away. 

HIs eyes wandered back to Snape, this time watching the way the morning light struck his hair. It was like a shimmering curtain of darkness and Harry _knew_ it was wrong but he wanted to reach out and touch it. 

Snape might even let him, now that they’d kissed. Harry shuddered. He still could barely comprehend just _how_ that had happened. God, if his Aunt and Uncle found out he’d kissed a man they’d put him back in his cupboard!

Harry slunk out of the Hall, taking some food with him so that he could go down to the Lake and think about everything that had happened. He needed to get his thoughts together. He had no idea what he was going to say to Ginny and, until he was sure, he was going to have to avoid her. 

Then there was Snape. He’d be expecting him in the dungeons soon. Would he come and search Harry out if he didn’t go down there? It was possible, but surely Snape would think that Harry was skiving because of their kiss and allow him some space. It would be an unexpected kindness on Snape’s part, but now that they’d kissed maybe their relationship had changed.

Harry groaned out loud. He couldn’t start thinking about Snape and relationships. Especially not now, now that Ginny was involved too.

In the end, he spent most of the day sitting outside by the Lake. He was able to sneak back into the Common Room and get some of his books so that he could get on with his homework, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone. If he was going to spend the day avoiding his friends then he might as well go down to Snape’s quarters. At least there he’d be able to his homework and be given food, but he didn’t want to have to talk to Snape. He licked his lips, remembering what Snape’s kiss had felt like as he thought about his ugly teacher.

By late afternoon he was bored, but he still didn’t know what he was going to say to either Ginny or Snape. He headed back into the castle and found himself wandering the corridors. Eventually his feet lead him up to the Owlery. Hedwig happily flew down to greet him and he stroked her head. Her feathers felt soft under his fingers and she nipped at him gently.

“Sorry, girl. I didn’t bring any treats with me. I’ll get you some next time, alright?”

Hedwig gave him on last nip before flying away to join the other birds. Harry watched her go before turning his feet towards the Gryffindor Common Room. He was lucky and no one stopped him as he hurried through the Common Room and up to his dorm. It was still too early for bed, but Harry lay down and pulled the curtains around him. With the Prince’s book for company he got ready for a very early night.

The next morning he woke up very early and was one of the first people in the Great Hall for breakfast. 

“Harry?” Ginny asked quietly as she slid into the seat next to him. “I’m sorry about Saturday. I didn’t mean to pressure you into anything…” Ginny looked at him with wide, sad eyes. She was so innocent and trusting. She didn’t care about alphas or omegas, she just liked him and she was a girl. 

“You didn’t,” Harry said reassuringly. “It was just, just, the end of a long day. Do you want to meet up later? We could find somewhere quiet.”

Ginny let out a small cry and threw her arms around his neck. Harry hugged her back awkwardly. He wasn’t really sure what to do with his arms so he wrapped them around her and patted her back. Like this, he could see as Snape turned towards the Gryffindor table. For a brief second, their eyes met but then Harry had to look away. He was ashamed. He just wasn’t sure if he was ashamed of kissing Snape, or for what he was doing now with Ginny. They both felt wrong. 

Harry pulled back and saw Ginny flushed face. The smile on her face was massive. Harry tried to grin back, but he couldn’t seem to control the muscles on his face. It didn’t matter. Ginny was a nice girl, a good friend, and he’d made her happy. That had to be a good thing. 

“Yeah,” Harry muttered to himself. “I, er, I wanted to get to Transfiguration early, so I’d better get going. Would you let Ron and Hermione know when they get down here?”

Ginny’s smile dropped a fraction, but she nodded. 

“Sure. Do you want to meet in the Common Room after classes?”

“Yeah. Yeah. That’s great,” Harry said. To his ears, his voice sounded brittle and unhappy, but Ginny didn’t seem to notice. She just gave him a cheery wave as he walked away.

He ended up sitting on the floor outside the Transfiguration classroom for half an hour, just waiting for everyone else to get there. He spent most of the time with his nose buried in the Prince’s book. No matter how many times he read it, he always seemed to find new little comments to read and they always cheered him up, no matter how down he was feeling. He wondered if the Prince had been an alpha. There wasn’t any real way of knowing, but he rather liked the idea that he might have been. That he’d known about the secret part of the Wizarding World that Harry was only just learning about. 

“Harry!” Ron called out, half a piece of toast still in his hand as he walked along at the corridor. “Why are you so early? You’ve got Hermione convinced that you know there’s a surprise test or something.”

“Surprise test?” 

“Well, she thought you must have left breakfast early so that you could come up here and revise.”

“Oh. No. Nothing like that. I guess I just lost track of time. I thought it was later than it was, and then, by the time I was up here, it was too late to go back down,” Harry rambled self-consciously. 

“That’s alright, then,” Ron took a bite of his toast and chewed it noisily before he swallowed. “So, you and Ginny, eh?”

Harry nodded mutely. He knew Ron was protective of his little sister and he felt bad enough about the whole situation already. 

“Just, don’t hurt her feelings, alright. I know she acts all tough but...Just be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, biting the inside of his mouth, “Yeah, of course.”

Before either of them could say anything else Hermione and Neville turned onto the corner. Hermione’s face was set into a deeply determined expression, whilst Neville looked as nervous has he ever had in any Potions class. Almost all the other Transfigurations students were trailing slowly behind them; everyone was early because of Harry.

“Harry Potter!” Hermione yelled at him, “Did McGonagall tell you there was going to be a test? Because you really should have told everyone else, no-one has had any time to prepare!”

“Relax, Hermione!” Ron said soothingly, “There’s no test.”

“Yeah,” Harry spoke up, “I just got the time wrong when I left the Great Hall.”

“Oh,” Hermione seemed to physically deflate.

“You know,” Ron said tentatively. “I think you might be overdoing it, I mean..” he trailed off. Hermione blushed and adjusted the pile of books she was carrying. It struck Harry how both his best friends had their own lives. Harry used to tell them almost everything that happened to him, but now, as he watch his two best friends he was struck by how close the two of them looked. It was almost like they were a couple, with Ron playing the concerned boyfriend. It made Harry feel oddly left out. He knew he had no right to feel like that. He was keeping plenty of secrets of his own, but he suddenly felt nostalgic for the days when it had been all three of them, fighting trolls and three-headed dogs together. 

He supposed he had Ginny now. The two of them would become closer, now that they were going out. The thought didn’t cheer him up. Instead he remembered Snape, and their trip to France. That had been a proper adventure. 

“Oh, Harry, I meant to congratulate you!” Hermione said excitedly, cutting into Harry’s thoughts. “About you and Ginny. That’s great news!”

Harry plastered a smile on his face.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Hermione frowned a little, but just then Professor McGonagall opened the classroom door.

“Oh, my goodness!” the Professor said in surprise, “You’re all terribly early. Perhaps we should have a surprise test, hmmm? Yes, what a good idea.”

Everyone groaned loudly.

The day passed slowly. Each class seemed to drag by. Luckily he didn’t have Defense Against the Dark Arts today; he didn’t know how he was going to face Snape. He definitely wasn’t going to tell Snape about him and Ginny. In fact, he was sort of hoping that Snape never found out about him and Ginny at all. 

There was only one free period that day and Harry had planned to spend it sulking in the dorm but Hermione managed to drag him to the library before he could escape from her. The two of the had only just sat down when she gave him a strange look.

”What?” 

“Nothing. It’s just you seem different recently. Nothing bad,” she hurried on as Harry paled slightly. “Happier, even. You seem a lot calmer nowadays, not so angry at the world. It's nice.” 

She bumped her shoulder into his. 

“I suppose I feel calmer,” Harry said thoughtfully, he hadn’t had any visions of Voldemort in ages, and that definitely made it easier to sleep at night, but now that Hermione mentioned it, it was more than that. Perhaps the piece of Voldemort’s soul that he had been carrying had been affecting his moods, and maybe even his personality. He shuddered, suddenly thankful that he was an omega now and no longer tainted by Voldemort. 

“I was worried about you, you know.” Hermione smiled at him and Harry smiled back tentatively. He wished he could tell her everything. It felt horrible to keep secrets from his friend like this. He wished he had his friend’s help, she was always so great at solving puzzles. Perhaps, he thought, if he asked her in a subtle way, then she could help him out without him having to explain all the details.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about something actually. Have you ever heard of the word bonding? Like, magical bonding?”

Hermione frowned and gave him a strange look. 

“Well, yes. There are all kinds of bonds in the Magical World. Even just saying something that you really mean can cause a bond, and then there’s Wizarding Life Debts, that’s a kind of bond and there are bonds between wizards and their familiars and-”

“I mean, the type of bond between two people. Like, if you heard that two people were bonded then what would you think? What would your first reaction be?”

“I suppose,” Hermione eyed him critically, her intelligent eyes narrowing, “I’d think that there was some kind of romantic connection between them.”

“You would?” Harry asked in astonishment. That hadn’t been his first thought when he’d first heard that he had to bond with Snape. Maybe this whole situation would be different if it had been. Surely Snape would never have agreed to bond if it meant what Hermione was suggesting; but then Snape had kissed him, so maybe bonding really did mean something romantic. “But why?”

“Sometimes wizards get bonded instead of married. I’m not really sure what the difference is, but I read about it in a book about old Wizarding customs. It was just a bit of light reading and the book was really old and annoyingly vague. Why do you ask? Is everything alright? Has anyone said anything to you about bonding?”

“No,” Harry said far too quickly. “I..er..” Harry trailed off. He didn’t want to lie to Hermione, it was bad enough that he wasn’t being entirely truthful with her but the idea of actually thinking up a lie and having to stick to it was too much. 

“You know,” Hermione said softly, “The only couples I read about that were bonded were both wizards, they were both men.”

Harry looked up quickly. Perhaps Hermione had been reading about alpha-omega couples without even realising it. For a second, he was torn. If he asked the right questions he knew that she would start researching alphas and omegas and then he might finally get some proper answers. Snape might think that there weren’t any books about omegas, but he didn’t know Hermione and how clever she was. But then, the more that Hermione knew the more dangerous it was for her. Instead, it would be better if he asked her about the other thing that had been bothering him recently. 

“Do you think wizards care about that sort of thing? I mean, some muggles get all weird about gay couples. What do you think?”

“My cousin’s gay,” Hermione blurted out, blushing before she continued in a conciliatory tone, “Harry, I think that being gay isn’t such a big deal in the Wizarding World. And really, I’m not sure it’s such a big deal in the Muggle World either. Nigel, my cousin, he came out about two years ago and, well, some people were just awful to him about it. But those people are wrong. There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

Harry looked away from her awkwardly. She had that same tone of voice that she used whenever she started going on about elf rights.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know that. I was just asking,” he bit his lip and looked at his friend, “So, you wouldn’t care if…” Harry blenched, not sure how to ask her if she would still like him even if he were gay without actually admitting that he was gay. He couldn’t admit that, not when he wasn’t even sure yet himself. “I mean, if…”

“Of course not! I’d love you no matter, Harry! I’m sorry you don’t know that.”

Harry looked away again and sucked on the inside of his cheek. There was a lump in his throat and it felt like tears were forming in his eyes. He blinked them back.

“Although,” Hermione said quietly, “You should probably say something to Ginny if you’re thinking about this kind of thing.”

“I know. I don’t know if I am, but…I kissed someone, a boy. It just felt so much better,” Harry nodded, still not looking at her; there were still tears in his eyes, although he thought they were going away now. “I really thought I liked her, but when she kissed me, it felt like I knew what I should be doing, and how I should be moving but I didn’t _feel_ anything, I just…Maybe I did something wrong because everyone else likes kissing girls. And then she looked so happy afterwards, without any hint that, that it hadn’t actually been this great kiss…”

“She’s liked you for a long time. I don’t think she’s ever going to take a hint, but, if you’re having doubts you should tell her. Do you...Is there someone else?”

Harry nodded. It was bizarre to think that Severus was that someone else.

“Has he...Was it him that mentioned bonding? Because that’s really serious, Harry. Sort of like getting married. He...You don’t have to tell me who it is, but it sounds like it’s pretty serious between you two. Do you feel the same way?”

“I...I don’t know,” he breathed out. He couldn’t believe it; he’d just come out to Hermione, and she didn’t even seem to care. “He’s quite...intense. I didn’t want to like him, And,” he was going to tell her that he hated spending time with this person, but he couldn’t. Their trip to Arles had been great, and having a space to relax and just sit in front of the fire without anyone hassling him was nice too. “I don’t know...I don’t _like him_ like him, just...but he makes me feel good.”

Hermione giggled girlishly and hid her mouth behind her hand. 

“Not like that,” Harry said, feeling more at ease than he had in awhile. “Well, yeah, maybe a little like that, but it's more than that. I feel...safe with him. Like I’m precious and he wants to look after me. Does that sound crazy?” Harry felt slightly crazy, he could barely believe the words that were coming out of his mouth; that he was talking this way about Snape, but it was all true and it was only as he explained the situation to someone else that he realised that. 

“No,” Hermione smiled gently, “I think, if you’ve found someone that makes you feel like that, then you should hang on to them, no matter if they’re a witch or a wizard. But,“ she carried on with a frown, “You can’t let things continue with Ginny. You know that. The sooner you end it the better it will be for everyone. I know it was just a kiss, but I’m pretty sure that she’ll think the two of you are going out now. That’s what she was telling people this morning”

Harry nodded glumly. He knew that when he’d asked Ginny if she’d wanted to spend time with him that it had been tantamount to asking if she wanted to be his girlfriend.

“I know! And I want to do whats right, I just…” Harry paused and then everything that he’d been thinking about yesterday, as he sat by himself hiding away from everyone, came rushing out of his mouth. “My Aunt and Uncle don’t like gay people, they always said it was disgusting. I do love Ginny, she’s like a sister, really. And any bloke would be lucky to be her boyfriend. I just don’t want it to be me. But...But I don’t want to be gay. I want to get married and, and have a house full of kids. I want -”

Hermione reached out and took his hand, squeezing it slightly. He knew she meant it kindly, but it felt horribly condescending. He removed his hand from her grasp and wiped it over his face. 

“I only kissed him once. That doesn’t have to mean anything!”

Hermione was looking at him gravely, he was sure that there was a trace of pity in her eyes and, just then, he hated her for it. 

“Whether you’re gay or straight, I love you, Harry Potter. And I always will. You’re my best friend,” Harry felt tears well up in his eyes and he looked down at his knees so that Hermione wouldn’t be able to see them. “I think, if you’re not sure, then you should...Do some research.”

Harry snorted inelegantly. Research was Hermione’s solution to everything, but he doubted he get the answer to this out of a book. His friend conjured a handkerchief and handed it to him. He mumbled his thanks and blew his nose loudly. 

“I think you should find out if you’re gay or not. Maybe kiss your young man again and see how you feel. But, you have to be honest. You have to tell, erm, the boy, that you’re not sure. You don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, Harry. Does he, does he think that you’re his boyfriend?”

“Ha! Well, I suppose so, maybe. I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of thing. God, I can’t even imagine calling him my boyfriend.”

“You’ve talked about bonding, but you don’t call him your boyfriend?” she asked curiously.

He shrugged with one shoulder. It was so freeing to talk like this with his friend, he didn’t want to go back to topics where he’d have to watch every word he said. 

“Do you think Ron will mind?”

Hermione sighed and looked away.

“Tell Ginny first. He won’t care about you being gay, or questioning whether you’re gay, but he’s not the most aware of people. He’ll probably want to know why you kissed Ginny in the first place, but he’ll still be your best friend.”

“Yeah,” Harry muttered. Neither Weasley was going to be happy with him and he dreaded talking to either of them. He wasn’t sure if Ron was going to be as accepting as Hermione thought. He tried to imagine how he would react if Ron told him _he_ was gay. Would he start thinking about all those times that Ron had walked around naked in the bathroom? Or how they got changed in front of each other every morning and evening? 

He knew it was hypocritical but he wasn’t sure he’d be comfortable if Ron told him was gay. In fact the idea made his stomach twist oddly in way that felt a lot like disgust. 

“It was just one kiss,” Harry said quietly. Hermione rubbed a hand over his shoulder. She wasn’t usually this tactile. Was she treating him differently because she thought he was gay? He shrugged his shoulder quickly to get Hermione to stop touching him. She sighed again and looked at him sympathetically.

It had just been one kiss, but now his whole life felt like it was in shambles. He wished he could turn back time and never have this conversation with Hermione.

“Look, Harry, you’ve got time to figure this out. There’s no need to worry.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Harry closed his book and stood up, he didn’t want to be around Hermione’s sadly caring eyes any longer. “I’m going to go for a walk, just to clear my head for a bit.”

“Sure, Harry. Just, just remember that I love you, no matter what.”

Harry smiled weakly. He sort of wished he could go and sit in Severus’s quarters; on his large, squeaky leather sofa in front of a roaring fire, or on his comfortable rug and be given some tea. But there was still one more class left for the day. Luckily it passed in a blur. He avoided Hermione’s attempt to talk to him after class and in the corridor as they went down to the Great Hall for dinner. He rushed his food, unable to even look round at the High Table. Every time he even looked at a boy he was convinced that Hermione would think that boy was his supposed boyfriend. His cheeks felt bright red from blushing so much as he bent his head over his dinner and slunk away when Hermione became distracted. 

He knew his friend meant well, but he felt so ashamed of the things that he’d told her that he couldn’t bear to look at her. He knew it was unfair. It wasn’t Hermione’s fault that he’d told her those things.

“Hey there,” Ginny said, taking his hand as soon as he entered the Gryffindor Common Room. 

“Erm, hey,” Harry mumbled, stumbling slightly as he looked down at their entwined hands. His hand was larger than Ginny’s. Snape’s hands were much larger than his. If Snape had held his hand then he would have dwarfed Harry. This way was probably better. Ginny’s hand didn’t make him feel as warm and nicely enclosed as Snape’s did, but he didn’t really need that sort of thing. He was a man, and men didn’t need other men to look after them. 

“So, do you want to see if we can’t find an empty classroom? We could have a nice chat,” Ginny looked up at him through her eyelashes. It had a paralysing effect on Harry. He had no idea what he supposed to do. 

“Sure,” Harry squeaked, unable to keep his voice from cracking. Ginny just smirked and led him back out of the Common Room. She found them a deserted classroom that was only a minute’s walk passed the Fat Lady, but it took them ages to get there. Harry could barely get his feet to move. He felt like he was walking to his doom, but he didn’t know what he could to stop it.

The door to the empty classroom swung shut behind them, making Harry jump. Ginny transfigured the teacher’s desk into a comfy looking sofa. She really was a very talented witch.

“I’ve fancied you for so long,” Ginny began, pulling Harry down so they were sitting next to each other on the sofa. “But you never seemed to notice me. Hermione told me that I should move on, but I couldn’t let you go.”

Her voice was so soft and, as she spoke, she leaned closer and closer to him. It was nice. He wasn’t used to being so close to anyone other than Snape and there was something rather comforting about how soft and feminine Ginny was. It felt like he’d been worrying so much recently, but maybe all that worry and confusion had been over nothing. He’d only kissed Snape once, that didn’t have to mean anything. If he could just do this with Ginny then he could be straight and everything could go back to what it had been like before. He kissed her gently on the lips. 

At once, Ginny opened her mouth and pushed her tongue into Harry’s mouth. That, Harry didn’t like. That felt wrong. He pulled away from her, but Ginny didn’t seem to care. She moved down, transferring her attention to his neck. He was so sensitive there! His whole body shivered and he liked it! Maybe he wasn’t gay at all! He moved his head to the side so that more of his neck was exposed. She kissed his neck again and again, her soft lips brushing against his tender flesh and making him moan. He felt his cock twitch in his pants and he put his legs together tightly. He didn’t want Ginny to notice but, when he moved his legs, his bum felt wet. He shifted uncomfortably. 

She put her hand on his thigh. 

“Harry?” she said, her voice high and girly and sounding exactly like it always had, and yet somehow it wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t quite as attractive as it had been a few minutes ago. Snape’s voice was always low and melodic. “Harry? Have you ever? Done anything more?” Ginny’s hand slid up his thigh. It was so close to his crotch that Harry imagined that he could feel the heat of her hand warming his cock. His cock! Harry flinched away awkwardly. He couldn’t let her touch it, not now it had shrunk. He didn’t want her to think that that was what it always looked like. 

“I..er..” Harry put his hand on top of hers and slid their joined hands down to his knee. “I really like kissing you, Ginny.”

She smiled, and it was just as blinding and as pretty as ever. Harry smiled back, a tiny tendril of guilt spoiling the moment. Should he tell Ginny that he’d kissed Snape? Or should he tell Snape that he’d kissed Ginny. Would that be the right thing to do?

Harry leaned forward and kissed Ginny chastely on the lips. She instantly opened her mouth, swallowing his lips. He wished they could just kiss without it being so _wet_. It felt soggy, and strange, but everyone else did this, and they always said that they liked it so Harry supposed he should keep doing it until he liked it too. He opened his mouth and Ginny’s tongue was immediately inside his mouth, roving around in a motion that reminded Harry of muggle cement mixers. He couldn’t help but think about the way that Snape kissed him. Like he was special and precious and he wished Ginny would kiss him like that. It felt horribly disloyal. It wasn’t his fault that Snape was a better kisser than Ginny. He much preferred Ginny as a person. 

He pulled back and felt an uncomfortable dampness between his arse cheeks. It was so uncomfortable and he wanted to get away from Ginny and clean himself, but there was only one excuse he could think of.

“I have to go, I’ve got detention with Snape,” Harry said, pulling back and looking at Ginny’s slightly dazed face. She seemed so lost in the kissing, but Harry didn’t understand why; he didn’t feel that way at all. 

“Tonight? I’m sure it’s against school rules to be given detentions _every day_ ,” Ginny pouted. 

“Oh, erm, no. Sorry.”

Ginny sighed irritably.

“I suppose I can wait a little bit longer for you, Harry Potter,” she grinned teasingly. But when Harry stood to leave, Ginny followed him. At first Harry thought that she was just going to return to Gryffindor, but she followed him down the stairs as well.

“You don’t have to come all the way down to the dungeons, Ginny,” Harry said nervously.

“Oh, it’s no trouble. And how else am I going to spend time with my boyfriend?”

Harry laughed nervously, stopping only when he realised that Ginny was being deadly serious. 

“Snape’s always giving you detentions! It’s so unfair, it’s like he’s obsessed with you. I’m surprised that no-one has complained to the Headmaster.”

“It’s not that bad,” Harry said, rubbing his neck with his hand. He imagined that he could feel Snape’s bitemark through the cloth of his shirt. It was still slightly damp with Ginny’s saliva and he dried it with the back of his hand.

Ginny snorted inelegantly through her nose. She sounded a bit like a horse.

The rest of the walk through the school was done in complete silence. Harry was desperately trying to think of an excuse to get her to go back to the Common Room, but he just couldn’t think of anything. He fiddled awkwardly with his shirt cuffs as he walked. Finally, just after they turned onto the to the Potions corridor, Harry stopped. This had to end now, before Snape saw them down here together. 

“There’s no need for you to come to the door. Snape’ll just yell at you if he sees you...So..erm, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Hmm,” Ginny murmured as she pushed up against him. He could feel her breasts pressing against his chest. He’d heard the other boys saying things about how breasts were supposed to be great, but they felt weird against him. He just hoped that Ginny wasn’t hurting herself. “I can’t wait.”

She closed her eyes and puckered her lips. She wanted Harry to kiss her! Here! Practically in front of Snape’s office!

It would probably be quicker to just get it over, rather than refuse her. Harry closed his eyes and let her kiss him. He barely paid attention to the press of her lips against his, he was too busy straining his ears, fervently hoping that Snape didn’t catch them. 

He heard the creak of the office door and pushed Ginny away as quickly as he could, but it was too late. Ginny’s arms were clinging to him and Harry just didn’t seem to be as strong as he used to be. Even though he pushed her away, she was still clinging to him. 

“Weasley!” Snape’s voice cut through the air like a whip. Finally, Ginny let go of him. Harry watched her move away but couldn’t bring himself to look up at Snape. He hadn’t been afraid of the man in years, but Harry felt guilty. He knew he shouldn’t. He’d only kissed Snape once, and it wasn’t like Snape was his _boyfriend_ or anything ridiculous like that. “Fifty points from Gryffindor for your disgusting behaviour. This is the third boy I’ve seen you harrassing in as many months, if I ever see you doing such a thing again I will have you expelled for indecency.”

Tears welled up in Ginny’s eyes but she set her jaw determinately. Snape, however, obviously had no interest in saying anything else to her. He strode forward and, grabbing Harry by the arm, dragged him towards his office. Harry had to hurry after him, Snape’s hold was so tight that he thought his arm might break if he didn’t keep up with him. He had time to look back and see a very forlorn looking Ginny; he smiled resignedly at her just before the classroom door slammed shut behind them. 

Snape released his death grip on his arm and pushed him away so that Harry fell back heavily against door. The man looked incandescent with rage.

Snape flicked his wrist and his wand appeared in his hand. Convinced that Snape was about to curse him into oblivion, Harry squared his shoulders and stepped forward, prepared for whatever Snape was about to do. Behind him the door clicked and Harry realised that Snape was only locking and warding the door.

“How dare you? You vile, traitorous rat. I have risked my life, my sanity, my very soul for you and this, this, is how you repay me? I should kill you with my bare hands.” Snape stalked towards him, his hands raised as if he was going to strangle Harry where he stood. “You belong to me, you’re mine. You’re _my_ bonded but you let that harlot put her filthy hands all over you.” 

“What?!” Harry yelled. He might have felt a bit guilty and confused before, but in the face of Snape’s anger he felt entirely justified. “I can kiss anyone I want, Ginny’s my girlfriend and it’s none of your business what we do!”

Snape loomed over him, wild with anger and still looking like he wanted to throttle Harry even though he dropped his hands. 

“Oh, no,” Snape laughed viciously, “Do you know, _Harry,_ how old the laws on alpha-omega bonds are? Didn’t your precious Headmaster tell you what you were giving away when you gave yourself to me? You belong to me, and you will until the day you die.”

Harry backed away, shaking his head in horror. Snape was lying, he had to be. This didn’t make any sense. His back hit the door with a thud but he didn’t dare look away from Snape to try and open it. The man was almost frothing at the mouth he looked so insane.

“That’s not true, that’s not possible.”

“You will not touch her again, do you understand?” Snape’s voice was no louder than a serpent’s hiss. 

“That’s none of your business! You can’t tell me I can’t go out with her!”

“How dare you! Does being the _Chosen One_ ” Snape bit out, his spit hitting Harry in the face, “Excuse your behaviour? We are bonded! Are you aware of the medieval laws that haven’t been changed since omegas became extinct? You are mine, you _belong_ to me. There will be no-one else. You will obey me.”

“What are you talking about?! You’re insane! I don’t care about this stupid bond, I don’t care if it fails! I’m not _yours!_ I don’t belong to anyone! You know what, I’m never coming down here again. No more fake detentions! No more holding hands! I hate you, you foul,” Harry choked, he was so angry he could barely get the words out of his mouth, “Ugly, pervert! I’m not gay! And, even if I were, I wouldn’t touch you with a barge pole!”

Snape paled, stepping back away from Harry as if he’d struck the man, but Harry didn’t have any room in his heart for pity at the moment. He unlocked the door and raced from the dungeons as fast as he could. He had to get to Dumbledore and find out the truth. 

Harry ground his teeth as Dumbledore’s gargoyle stood stonily still in front of him. Slowly Harry’s breathing returned to normal. There had to be an explanation for what Snape had just told him. Dumbledore wouldn’t have made the two of them bond if what Snape was saying was true, he just wouldn’t have done! It wasn’t any of Snape’s business if he touched Ginny. They could snog each other in the middle of the Great Hall and it still wouldn’t be Snape’s business. 

He clenched his fist, too angry to guess what Dumbledore’s password might be. He hit the gargoyle with the side of his fist, pounding on the door. 

“Harry?” Dumbledore said gently from behind him. Harry whipped round. His fist hurt but he just couldn’t believe that Dumbledore would have given him to Snape. He wanted Dumbledore to tell him it wasn’t true. “Why don’t we go up to my office, hmm? And you can tell me what has you so upset. I’m sure that we’ll get everything sorted out in a jiffy.” Dumbledore said, winking at Harry jovially as he passed him. Harry nodded dumbly. That was the Dumbledore that he knew; the kind old man who helped Harry with his problems. 

Harry stood awkwardly in front of Dumbledore’s desk, watching as the old man settled himself in his chair. He was still angry, but it was difficult to stay angry with Dumbledore especially as he was looking increasingly frail.

“He,” Harry burst out, ”He says he owns me! Like, like some kind of object! And you gave me to him! You were the one that said we had to bond!” His voice got louder and louder with each word, until he was practically screaming at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore held up his shrivelled hand, calling for silence. His hand was black and looked like it had been mummified. Despite his anger, Harry could not help pausing to stare in morbid horror. Usually Dumbledore went to pains to keep his blackened hand hidden, but now he let Harry look openly. 

“Harry. The laws that Severus is referring to are real, however the situation is not as dire as you imagine. These laws are archaic, they would have been changed hundreds of years ago, but in the absence of any living omegas there was no need. I never intended for the bond to harm you, it was necessary for your safety and I’m afraid that, despite the heavy cost of this bond, I would repeat my actions if I had to. Severus is a difficult man, unused to having to keep his temper in check. He has been alone a long time, but I know that he would never harm you. Once the War is over, you will be free to petition the Wizengamot to change the laws. In the meantime, this is just a meaningless legal technicality.“

“He thinks we’re..I don’t understand. He thinks,” Harry stuttered. Snape had been so angry, so jealous. It was as if he thought that Harry and he were a couple. He remembered what Hermione had said about what it meant to be bonded. He shook his head. It wasn’t possible.

“Severus thinks that you and he are bonded, nothing more, but nothing less. Harry, calm yourself. This is not a romantic relationship, this is merely a wartime necessity. No-one can force you to do anything that you do not want to do.”

“So, Snape’s wrong?”

“He has certainly overstepped his boundaries. I will speak to him.”

“I’m not his slave!”

“No!” Dumbledore’s eyebrows raised in astonishment, “Of course not, Harry.”

Harry nodded, beginning to feel better as he let the calm of Dumbledore’s office wash over him. 

“I don’t want to go to his quarters anymore. I won’t!”

Dumbledore blinked over his spectacles. Harry felt oddly disconcerted, like he’d inadvertently admitted a secret. 

“If that is your wish, Harry, then, of course, you needn’t spend any of your free time with Professor Snape.”

“What about my detentions?”

“I will talk to Severus. For now, consider them cancelled. If I may change the subject, I have had some success with our next Horcrux. I expect that we shall be going in search of it sometime in the next few days.”

Harry bit his lip. He’d been so angry, but everything that Dumbledore had said sounded so reasonable and unimportant compared to the search for the rest of the Horcruxes. He sat down and let his head fall into his hands. Snape was just a bitter old man, spewing his vitriol and, if Harry trusted Dumbledore, then he could discount everything that Snape had said.

“What about the bond? It’ll fail if Snape and me stop getting on,” Harry said through his hands. He flinched in surprise as he felt Dumbledore’s comforting hand rubbing his shoulder. 

“I think, Harry,” Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling as Harry looked up hopefully, “That I may have just the solution.”


	9. Chapter 9

Whatever Dumbledore’s solution was he didn’t appear to be particularly eager to tell Harry. As he finished his tea, a weight seemed to settle in his stomach. Snape had been so angry with him. Angrier even than when he’d caught Harry looking in his Pensieve. Of course, back then, he’d been more upset about what he’d seen in the Pensieve, rather than what Snape felt. He hunched over, only listening with half an ear to what Dumbledore was talking about. The Headmaster might say that Snape knew they weren’t in a romantic relationship, but Snape’s anger had to mean that he thought they were. And then there was Hermione’s reaction to the word bonded; she’d instantly thought that it was something akin to a gay marriage. He squirmed in his chair.

“Harry? Oh dear me, look at the time. I’m afraid I’ve been keeping you up. Time for bed, I think, but I am glad we had this chat.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry stood quickly. He suddenly felt the urge to get away from Dumbledore and all his difficult to decipher advice. ”Sir, you’re not going to break the bond, between Snape and me, are you? I mean, let it fail, or whatever.”

The was a moment of silence. Harry thought he should be angry for being put in this position, for being made into a bonded omega with no idea what that meant. But all he felt was an ineffable sense of loss for something he’d only just realised he had. Dumbledore sighed tiredly and stood up too.

“When you reach my age, Harry, you realise that so many of life’s problems can be solved with a cup of tea and a good chat. No, I cannot break your bond, I think the best solution would be for you and Professor Snape to spend some time apart. Emotions have been running very high and I don’t believe that either of you have had the chance to truly consider what it is you want. Think about that, Harry, and then come and talk to me again. In the meantime, don’t concern yourself about the bond failing; as I understand it, such a thing is incredibly unlikely. Now, I shall bid you goodnight.”

Harry muttered goodbye and left. He was still walking down the stairs of the Headmaster’s Tower when Snape’s scent hit him. It was so strong that he knew Snape had to be nearby, waiting for him in the corridor and he’d probably been waiting the entire time that Harry had been talking to Dumbledore. 

The corridor was dark and he lit his wand with a quick _Lumos_ , but the lit wand tip only made the darkness of the corridor more extreme and the shadows seem longer and more foreboding.

“Potter!” Snape stepped out of the dark, making Harry jump back in surprise. In the half light his large nose cast a strange shadow across his face. He looked as angry as he had back in his office, his face viciously twisted into a sneer.

“S -” Harry began.

“Silence. Follow me, boy,” Snape barked before turning and leading Harry away. He was expecting Snape to take them back to his office, and maybe back to his quarters. Harry felt a strange sense of relief at that. He’d been thinking that he’d never see Snape’s squeaky, leather sofa again or the comfort of his roaring fire and scent infused rooms.

Snape so stopped abruptly that Harry almost walked into his back. Snape wasn’t taking him to his quarters, Harry realised with a heavy heart. He’d led them to a small alcove and was using his wand to ward the entrance so whatever happened next would be entirely private. There was a small stone bench on one side of the alcove and Snape sank down on to it as soon as he’d finished his spell work. His angry expression fell from his face and his shoulders sagged. He looked broken and tired and Harry realised that he had done this to his usually indomitable teacher.

Part of him wanted to apologise, but he couldn’t. Snape had deliberately kept Harry in the dark about the nature of their bond and he wasn’t going to apologise because he hadn’t understood what Snape wanted. He probably wouldn’t have agreed to the bond if he’d understood what it would entail.

He licked his lips slowly, trying to think about what he wanted to say. Even in the poorly lit alcove he could see Snape’s beady eyes watching his tongue, and he felt a flash of realisation. Snape was watching him like that because he fancied him. He’d watched Harry like that when they’d had breakfast together in Arles, but Harry had assumed Snape had been sneering at his table manners. He’d been so wrong. Perhaps he ought to feel betrayed to realise that his teacher, a man twenty years old than him, had been lusting after him, but he didn’t. His stomach twisted in a flare of something that was part arousal and part hope. He damped the feeling down and let his simmering anger return. Snape had never been entirely honest with him, all the time that the two of them had spent together and Snape had known so much and he’d kept it all a secret from Harry.

“Severus,” Harry said slowly, feeling confident enough to not just hurriedly mutter the man’s name, “Tell me about the bond between alphas and omegas. Tell me everything, please.”

Snape leaned back against the wall and tilted his head to look up at Harry.

“No living person can tell you such a thing. I am the first bonded alpha in a thousand years and I find myself,” Snape swallowed bitterly, his lips forming a dissatisfied moue, ”At a loss. Albus asked me to bond with you, and whilst I understood the necessity of it, I was fervently opposed to it. You are so very like your father, arrogant and wild.” Snape’s tone lacked its usual bite and sounded rather wistful. “It is the fantasy of every alpha to have an omega, but then I was faced with the reality of being bonded to Harry Bloody Potter and I loathed you even more for forcing me into this position. I assumed that we would have as little to do with each as possible, but it soon became apparent that that was no longer feasible. 

“I have always despised alphas who give in to their base natures, but your company has taxed me as nothing else ever has. I had imagined that I would simply let you go, that you would get on with your life, pretending to be an alpha. I vaguely presumed that you would indulge yourself with any of your numerous fans but after kissing you, after seeing you kiss another…”

Snape’s hands curled in his laps so that they looked like claws and he lapsed into silence.

“I have tried to keep up the charade that we were both of us betas, but we are not. We are bondmates,” Snape looked up at him sharply, staring so intently that Harry wondered if he was secretly using Legilimency. “And there shall be no more confusion between us. You are to treat this relationship as a marriage, an arranged one, perhaps. Certainly this is not a love match or anything so asinine. We may neither of us care for the other, but we will respect each other. You will not sully yourself with anyone else.”

Harry sucked in a breath. He’d only begun to suspect how seriously Snape took their bond but to hear it said out loud, so casually, was shocking. His knees weakened and he slid to the ground so that he was sitting at Snape’s feet.

“I never agreed to this,” Harry whispered brokenly.

“Neither of us expected to find ourselves in this position, Potter,” Snape hissed angrily before continuing tiredly, “I doubt it will be for long, a year, perhaps a little longer and then you will be free.”

Harry traced the cobblestones on the floor with his fingertip as he thought quickly. Ginny was going to be so disappointed, but he was going to have to end things with her. It was rather a relief. He’d been beginning to suspect that the bond was something this important and having it finally confirmed was such a weight off his mind that he didn’t even bother protesting further.

“You should have told me, from the beginning, that bonding meant so much.”

“Have I not made myself clear? I did not want the bond to mean this much. If I had had my way you would never have understood the true meaning of the bond. I had certainly planned to never inform you of the legal implications of it.”

There was something in Snape’s tone, something so desperate and lost sounding that the man in front of Harry stopped being his spiteful teacher, and Harry saw him as a man who was just as confused as he was. He wanted to reach out and touch him, but this was still Snape. He’d probably say just insult Harry for daring to touch his precious robes. 

He nodded to himself. Snape might call this an arranged marriage, but, as far as Harry could see, all that really meant was that he wasn’t allowed to kiss anyone else for a year and that he and Snape had to be on good terms. They’d sort of been managing that before. He found he rather liked the idea of going back to the simplicity of their earlier meetings.

“Should I still come down to your quarters?” Harry asked, standing up. Snape stood too. He was so much taller than Harry and in the confined space it felt like he was looming over him. All his concerns about being gay seemed so unimportant when Snape was right in front of him, practically touching him and enveloping him in the scent of virile alpha. 

“No,” Snape drawled coldly, but his breath was hot against Harry’s cheek. He shivered, terribly sad. He didn’t know when going to Snape’s quarters had become so important to him but this felt like the worst of punishments. 

“Right,” he pressed his lips together stoically. He felt like so much had happened over the last few hours that he wasn’t even sure what to feel about anything anymore, he was so drained. “I didn’t,” he began, floundering before he could get the words out. He refused to apologise to Snape, he didn’t feel he’d done anything wrong. If anyone was owed an apology it was Ginny, he shouldn’t have dragged her into all this mess. “I don’t want -”

“Listen very closely, Harry Potter. I don’t care about your sexuality crisis, I don’t care what you choose to call yourself. You’re not a gay beta, you’re not any kind of beta, you’re my omega. Only mine.” Snape was so close to him that he could feel the heat radiating through Snape’s black robes. Harry tried to back away, but there was a cold stone wall right behind him. 

Snape lowered his head and his lips skimmed across Harry’s, not quite touching him but so much like a kiss that Harry leaned up, wanting to be closer. Snape pulled back with a smug gleam in his eye. 

“The bond between us is affecting you; whilst we are bonded your body will desire me and only I will be able to truly satisfy you,” Snape’s low voice rumbled into his ear. Harry tilted his head back so that he could feel Snape’s soft exhalations on his neck. It felt horribly wrong, but Snape’s words slowly filtered into his brain and he understood. Since the first second that they’d been bonded Harry had felt aroused every time that Snape got close to him. He wasn’t going mad by suddenly fancying his much older, unattractive male teacher. It was the magic of the bond at work. There was nothing wrong with Harry himself. He hummed softly in realisation.

“And,” Harry said breathlessly, “How does the bond affect you?”

Snape bit into his neck, into the bonding mark on Harry’s neck. He screamed in shock and sudden pain, but his cock didn’t seem to understand that Snape was causing him pain not pleasure. His cock was hard in his pants, desperate for Snape to get closer.

“Kiss her again, Harry, and I swear _I’ll_ never touch you again, no matter how much you beg me to,” Snape’s words trailed across his skin, and then, in a rustle of robes, Snape was pulling away from him and leaving the alcove. Harry’s head fell back against the stone wall and he panted quickly, trying to catch his breath. He had no idea what he was supposed to feel about Snape anymore, but his cock didn’t seem to care about all that. 

He stayed still for a few minutes until he was calm again and his cock soft, then stepped out into the corridor. Snape was still waiting for him but instead of acknowledging Harry he just started walking away. Harry followed, realising that Snape was leading him back to the Gryffindor Common Room. 

Snape stopped just before the Fat Lady and Harry wordlessly stepped round him. He half-expected Snape to reach out and touch him, but he didn’t. He just watched Harry with glittering eyes. 

Harry ducked his head and made his way up to the Fat Lady. He supposed Dumbledore had been right after all. Sometimes just talking to someone was enough to make things seem better. He didn’t need to break the bond with Snape if it was only going to have to last a year anyway.

He didn’t look back as the portrait swung open. It had been such a long, draining day and he was too tired to feel anything else. He just wanted to go to bed and sleep. Ginny was sitting in one of the armchairs by the fire; when she saw him she stretched, yawned and got up with a smile. Harry’s heart sank a little.

“You waited up for me.”

“Of course,” she reached out to take his hand but the look on his face seemed to stop her, “Harry? What’s wrong?”

“Ginny, I’m really sorry. I can’t be your boyfriend,” Harry bit his lip for a second. He felt like he was saying goodbye to everything he’d expected to have in life; a future with a woman, a girlfriend, a wife, a family but he was too tired to be properly sad about it. It was a ridiculous thought, because Snape had said that they’d only have to stay bonded for a year.

“But, but, of course you can. I like you, Harry, I really like you. I always have.”

“I know,” he thought of Snape whose scent would probably still be lingering outside the Common Room. He wished that he’d known what bonding to Snape had meant right from the beginning. He’d never wanted to hurt anyone.”You’re lovely, Ginny, you really are, but I,” he swallowed. He wished he’d had more time to plan what he intended to say to Ginny. He tried to think of something that she would understand. “I like wizards. I didn’t know, I swear. I never meant to lead you on! The last thing in the world I wanted to do was lead you on.”

Ginny eye’s glistened with tears and Harry desperately wanted to tell her that everything would be alright, but he knew that he couldn’t give her what she wanted. She shook her head decisively.

“No, no, Harry,” she said calmly, as if she were talking to a small child who didn’t understand what he was saying, “You’re wrong. You’re not gay! You dated Cho, you flirted with me! You kissed me! You’ve been in detention with Snape all evening, you can’t decide something like this whilst you’re in detention!”

Harry looked away from the heavy tears that were starting to leak out of her eyes. 

“I’m sorry.”

Ginny gazed at him in teary frustration as if he was suddenly speaking another language. Harry thought that she was going fling herself onto him but she didn’t. She turned away and ran up the stairs to the girls dormitory. Harry watched her go before heading up to bed himself.

Harry went to breakfast early the next morning. He didn’t see Ron until their first class together. Normally, Ron would have sat next to him, but this morning Ron walked past their usual desk to sit next to Seamus. Harry guessed that he’d already heard about him and Ginny breaking up.

Hermione sat down next to him and gave Ron a pointed look.

“Ginny was telling people at breakfast that you broke up with her,” Hermione said after a moment of silence. Harry nodded and looked at his friend sadly.”You should probably give Ron a bit of a wide berth for the next few days. I don’t think he’s really upset with you, Ginny’s not saying anything nasty or anything. In fact, the way she was talking I sort of expected to hear that you two were going to get back together soon. Are you?”

Harry shook his head.

“Did you tell your male friend about her?”

Harry shook his head again, hot tears gathering behind his eyes. He blinked them back furiously and then looked around quickly to make sure that no-one was eavesdropping. No-one was. 

“He saw me and Ginny together. He…”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione put her arm around his shoulders and Harry turned to bury his head in her bushy hair. Ron made a loud, strangled noise behind them but Harry didn’t move. He hadn’t realised he was still so upset, but something about Hermione’s sympathy broke through all his defences.

“He was so angry, I didn’t think he even thought of me like that!” Harry’s voice cracked slightly. Hermione rubbed his back and tutted softly.

“He was talking about bonding, Harry! What did you imagine he would feel?”

“I don’t know, Hermione!” He pushed her away, “We never said we were going out! I _never_ thought of him as my boyfriend and it was only one kiss! I didn’t think he’d react like this. That he’d be so angry!”

“Oh,” Hermione frowned, “It’s all very confusing, isn’t it? But I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is. Maybe if you just talk to him then you can sort everything out. I mean, that is what you want, isn’t it, Harry?”

“I suppose. We talked a bit last night.”

“Alright then,” Hermione sat up straight, a look of concentration on her face that was exactly the same expression she pulled when she was working out her Arithmancy homework.”So, I think this means that you’ve worked out that you prefer your young man over Ginny.”

“I suppose so,” Harry nodded forlornly. 

Hermione stuck reassuringly close to his side for the rest of the day and no-one mentioned anything to do with Ginny in front him. Even Lavender Brown was discreet and only gave him a pitying look and didn’t ask if the rumours about him and Ginny were true. 

In Defense Against the Dark Arts class that afternoon, Ron sat next to him, although he managed to avoid talking to Harry entirely. Snape also ignored him, but Harry didn’t really mind about that. 

Harry was reminded of the time, in Fourth Year, at the beginning of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, when Ron had ignored him before. Hanging out with Hermione meant that there was much more time spent in the library and doing homework, and much less time spent playing Wizard’s Chess and eating sweets.

He spent his third evening in a row sitting next to Hermione, finishing his homework and doing extra research when he caught a whiff of Snape’s scent. The man must be in the library. He looked round surreptitiously, but he couldn’t see him.

“I’m going to go back to the Common Room,” he told Hermione as he stood and packed up his bag. Hermione shot him a concerned look.

“Are you sure? I can come with you, if you like?” 

Harry shook his head. Hermione had her faults but she was a good friend and he was glad to have had her support these last few days. 

When he stepped out of the library the scent seemed to get stronger. Snape must have left the library already. Merlin, he’d missed that smell. He gulped back a lungful of air, savouring the scent of concentrated Hogwarts that Snape always reminded him of. He took a few steps, following the smell. He didn’t want to find Snape himself, but that scent was so alluring and he missed it so much. He closed his eyes and let himself relax as if Snape was holding onto that place on the back of his neck. 

“Oh, hello, Harry,” 

His eyes flew open and he saw a tired and slightly dirty looking Ginny walking towards him. Her hair was askew and she peered at him through her messy fringe.

“Hi,” Harry tried to smile, but he realised how strange he must have looked, standing in the corridor with his eyes closed. “Quidditch practise?”

She laughed, a light tinkly sound, and smiled at him fondly. 

“No, Snape’s got me in detention with Filch all week.”

It wasn’t exactly a surprise that Snape was punishing Ginny for kissing Harry.

“It’s not that bad,” Ginny said with a shrug. “Just lots of scrubbing. How are you?”

“Erm, alright, just, you know, studying,” Harry groaned, wishing he didn’t feel so tongue-tied. Ginny didn’t seem to notice, she smirked at him and Harry had the uncomfortable sense that she was sizing him up and getting ready to pounce.

“I heard your detentions with Snape were cancelled. So, I guess you’ll be free this weekend, won’t you?”

Harry took a step back and threw his hands up.

“I’m not really sure what I’m doing this weekend, Ginny. But, I think it would be good if we didn’t see each other for a bit. Just until everythings calmer, you know?”

Ginny’s face fell and she pouted, her bottom lip sticking out in annoyance. The expression made her look less than pretty.

“Yeah, well, I’d better go and wash off the scent of Filch’s furniture polish. I need a nice hot shower!” she said, giving him a lopsided grin as she walked past him. Harry didn’t watch her leave. He closed his eyes again and tried to get another whiff of Snape’s scent, but it had been completely obliterated by the lemony tang of furniture polish. 

He sighed and turned to follow Ginny to the Common Room. He didn’t want to walk so quickly that he caught up with her, so he walked slowly and detoured through a deserted, armour lined corridor. The alpha scent of Snape was even stronger here and Harry paused to inhale deeply. 

There was a sharp pinch and pull on the cartilage on the top of his left ear.

“Ouch!” Harry yelped, jerking his head away before turning to see Snape, all but hidden between two coats of armour. “What was that for?”

“Been having a pleasant chat with Miss Weasley?” Snape asked bitterly. Harry blinked at him. Snape was jealous. He wasn’t just angry because Harry had done something potentially damaging to their bond, but he was actually jealous. 

“It’s the first time we’ve spoken since I dumped her. Which I did about five minutes after you told me to.”

He didn’t feel bitter about having to break up with Ginny, but the words sounded angry. Snape smirked, preening slightly as he drew himself back. Harry took a step towards him so that he could be nearer to that delicious alpha scent. 

Snape stilled suddenly and eyed Harry carefully.

“Can I come down and see you? You, you could make me some tea again?” Harry asked wistfully. The library was a great place to study in peace, but it was draughty and no-one made him tea whilst he worked.

“Perhaps,” Snape said grudgingly. “But not tonight. Curfew is in five minutes and I shall happily deduct ten points from Gryffindor if you aren’t in your Common Room by then.”

Harry’s eyes darted up the corridor. The Common Room was still a two minute walk away, but he could spare a bit more time to stay here with Snape and his scent.

“You smell stronger than normal,” Harry said. Snape’s pale cheek turned a little red in an ugly blotchy pattern. He let out a small cough, and Harry wondered if his comment had embarrassed the man. Snape had never before seemed to care what anyone thought of him.

“Four minutes, Mr Potter.”

He didn’t, Harry decided, want to kiss Snape. There were things about the man that were attractive; his smell, his black hair, the way that he made Harry feel. But, then there were things that made Harry’s blood boil; Snape would never be a pleasant man, or a good looking one. His features were all wrong. His lips were too thin and if Harry hadn’t felt them moving against his, if he hadn’t felt them caressing his skin, he would never have imagined them capable of such things. His nose was too big and it sat like a beak on his face, but then Harry remembered what that beak felt like gently rubbing at his neck whilst Snape mouthed the bonding mark there. His cock twitched happily in his pants and he felt the first drop of wetness in his arse.

“Three minutes,” Snape said, his voice tight and clipped.

Harry hesitated but then turned and walked away. He wasn’t going to give Snape the pleasure of deducting points from him. He picked up his pace, almost jogging to get to the Fat Lady in time. 

The next morning, at breakfast, Ron asked him to pass the marmalade. It felt momentous to Harry, his friend was finally talking to him again! Harry beamed and passed Ron the marmalade. 

“Oh, honestly, you two!” Hermione snapped from across the table. Ron gave him a shy grin and butted his shoulder against Harry’s shoulder. 

“Excuse me,” a timid little voice said, and Harry turned to see a Gryffindor First Year hovering nervously. “Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you this.”

She gave him a note that Harry tore open and read excitedly. 

“Is it about You-Know-Who and the You-Know-Whats?” Ron whispered.

“Yeah,” Harry whispered back with a glance at Hermione, who leaned forward expectantly, her newspaper dragging into the butter dish. “He wants to see me tonight.”

“Blimey!” Ron exhaled sharply. Some of the other Gryffindors turned to look at Ron curiously. He blushed slightly and said loudly, “I can’t believe that you didn’t hear about the latest Caerphilly Catapults cock-up! It’s hilarious!”

Ron took a glug of his tea before continuing in a lowered voice. 

“Sorry about that, mate. But, seriously, did you hear about the Catapults?”

Harry, whose only source of Quidditch news was Ron himself, shook his head and listened as Ron began to recount the latest scandal to rock the Quidditch world. He paid as much attention to Ron as he could, because it felt so wonderful to have his friend talking to him again. But his thoughts were occupied by Dumbledore’s note. It was possible that he wanted to meet to talk about the bond with Snape and to see if Harry really wanted to break it. However, it was much more likely that Dumbledore had discovered the location of another Horcrux and they would be going in search of it that very evening!

Harry was too excited to concentrate on his lessons that day. So many parts of Voldemort’s soul had already been destroyed that it seemed clear to Harry that Dumbledore would soon be victorious. 

He was in good spirit as he made his way up to the Headmaster’s Tower that evening. When Professor Trelawney practically walked into him, he caught her and smiled politely. 

“Are you alright, Professor?” he asked helping her as she stumbled again.

“No, Harry! Not at all! I was just putting my sherry bottles, I mean, disposing of some personal items when I heard a terrible yell. It quite frightened me! There was someone else in there!”

“In, Professor?” Harry asked in confusion. “In where?”

“The Hiding Room! It is a very special place, known only to the select few who are privileged to be given the secrets of Hogwarts,” Trelawney spouted pompously. Harry realised, with a horrible jolt, that they were near the Room of Requirement. 

“What?” Harry exclaimed, clutching at Professor Trelawney’s arm. He’d practically forgotten about Malfoy and whatever his plans involving the Room of Requirement were, but it sounded like Malfoy’s plans had finally been completed. “Are you sure you heard yelling?”

“Quite sure,” Trelawney sniffed, “The yell was positively gleeful. I suppose it was some errant student trying to play a joke on me.” She pulled her multiple shawls tighter around her shoulders and shook her head so that her wild hair flew in every direction.

“We have to tell Professor Dumbledore!” Harry said excitedly. Finally, he had proof that Malfoy was up to something and Dumbledore would have to take him seriously. 

“We do? He has not been pleased to see me recently. He made some rather hurtful comments the last time I went to see him.”

“He’ll want to know about this, Professor, and I’ll come with you. I have an appointment with him anyway.”

Trelawney blinked myopically through her thick glasses at him.

“Very well, Harry. If you think it that important. I remember, you know - “ Trelawney droned on as Harry took her by the elbow and guided her towards Dumbledore’s office. He’d got so used to not listening to her that he almost didn’t follow what she was saying.

“- and then, in the middle of my interview, _he_ just barges in. Well, naturally the barman threw him out. Such a rude young man, eavesdropping on my interview. In order, no doubt, to get tips on what a successful interview sounds like. Well, it worked well for him, I can tell you that.”

Harry stumbled as he realised what Trelawney was saying. She was talking about the person who had overheard the prophecy, the person who had relayed it to Voldemort and made him target the Potters. The person responsible for his parents death.

“Who was it? Who was eavesdropping, Professor?” Harry asked urgently, squeezing Trelawney’s elbow tightly. She frowned at him, her bulbous eyes squinting through her heavy glasses. 

“Why, Severus Snape, of course! And he never even apologised! He just.. Harry? Where are you going? Aren’t we going to see the Headmaster?” Trelawney called after him, but Harry was already sprinting away. All this time he’d spent _bonded_ to Snape and he was the one who had betrayed his parents. He wanted to be sick, he’d kissed the man who’d caused his parents death. 

And Dumbledore! Dumbledore had given Harry away to the man, to the traitor! How could he have betrayed Harry like that! He ran on, through the hallways and down and down until he was running through the dungeons. Tears were streaming from his eyes. He’d isolated himself from his friends, he hadn’t told anyone about his bond, about being an omega because he’d trusted Dumbledore. He’d even trusted Snape! He’d been such a fool! Such a gullible fool!

He didn’t bother to knock on Snape’s office door, he just threw it open and barged in. 

The room was deserted. Snape had to be hiding in his quarters and Harry would find him. He had to confront him. He had to hear what his _bondmate_ had to say for himself. 

The door to Snape’s quarters swung open for him but Snape wasn’t there. Harry ran from room to room looking for him and yelling his name, but there was no sign of the man. Harry stilled, panting heavily in the middle of the sitting room. He wanted to yell and scream at Snape, he wanted to hurt him as much as Snape’s treachery had hurt Harry. 

There, on the low table, was the stone Pensieve and it was full of a memory. 

Harry stared at it. Snape had put a memory in it, although he had no idea why. Perhaps he had been summoned to a Death Eater meeting and had taken out that memory for safe keeping. He took a step closer. 

He’d humiliated Snape the last time that he’d looked into the Pensieve and seen Snape’s memories. He’d felt awful afterwards. But now he wanted to humiliate Snape. He deserved it for killing his parents.

Resolved, Harry took a step forward and then, without further thought, dived into the Pensieve. 

It was summer and the sun was shining brightly. He was surrounded by trees and grass and in front of him were two children no older than nine years old. One of them, a little boy, had to be Snape. His hair was dark and his clothes ragged and mismatched. He looked nothing like the spoiled Pureblood that Harry had always imagined Snape was. Beside him sat a little girl with red hair who was talking animatedly in a terribly serious voice.

“And then Tuney said that she was going to marry David Mayhew, even though he picks his nose, and then Lizzie Reed pushed me because she likes David Mayhew - “

“Stupid muggle, why wouldn’t she push Tuney?”

“Silly, because everyone knows that Tuney bites people when she’s angry, so they push me instead.”

“Well, I hope you pushed her back,” the boy leaned back thoughtfully against the tree, “Or bit her, maybe you should start biting people if thats how muggles learn.”

“Eww… I’m not biting anyone, anyway it’s mean!” the little girl sighed deeply, annoyed to have her story interrupted. ”Anyway, I said I wouldn’t marry David Mayhew if he were the last boy in the whole world because he picks his nose, and one time I saw him _eat it!_ And then Tuney said that I would marry you.” The little girl smiled happily as she finished her story, but the little boy scowled and plucked a dandelion from the ground.

“I won’t ever get married, I can’t!” the little boy said sourly as he plucked the petals off the flower viciously. 

“Why ever not? Everyone gets married! Even Tuney will get married one day!” the little girl said, looking upset at her friend’s angry reaction. The little boy sighed and threw the savaged flower away. 

“Because, you remember, I told you my mum’s family, how they’re all witches and wizards and they have been for hundreds and hundreds of years?”

“Yeah...You said they call themselves purebloods and that sometimes men in your family are born different because of all the magic,” the girl recited earnestly. The boy smiled, obviously proud that his friend had been paying such close attention to him. 

“Exactly! My mum’s older brother was an alpha. It’s really common in her family for men to be born alphas, but mum didn’t want an alpha son. She thinks that alphas are,” the little boy hung his head and his long hair swung down to hide his face. “She thinks they’re brutes. That’s why she ran away from her family. They were going to make her marry another pureblood and then she would have definitely had alpha children. So she ran away and married a muggle.”

“But, Sev, you’re an alpha. I mean, she doesn’t care about that anymore, does she?”

The little boy jutted his chin out defiantly. 

“I don’t think she even knows I’m an alpha. She and Dad are too busy shouting at each other to notice much of anything.”

The little girl looked troubled to see her friend so upset. 

“But, why does you being an alpha mean you can’t get married?” 

“It just doesn’t work,” the boy shrugged awkwardly. “It’s just, being an alpha is...There used to be people that alphas could marry.” The little boy leaned forward as if he were about to tell her something especially secret. “They were called omegas,” he whispered the word reverently, as though he were in awe of even the word _omega_.

He leaned backwards, looking slightly smug, but the little girl just looked confused. 

“Omegas?” she echoed, sounding a little shrill. The boy nodded, watching her cautiously. “So, they were like alphas but girls?”

The boy shook his head emphatically. 

“No. There used to be girl alphas, hundreds and hundreds of years ago, but they only married girl omegas and they all died out ages ago. If I were to get married then it would be to a boy omega,” the boy shrugged sadly, “Except there aren’t anymore boy omegas either. Just alphas. That’s why I’ll never get married, and that’s why I’ll always be alone.”

The little girl bounced up and enveloped her friend in a hug. 

“Oh no! I promise you that won’t happen! We’ll find you an omega to marry and, and you won’t be alone and, even if we don’t, then we’ll be best friends always, Sev. I promise!”

The little boy patted his friend on the back, although it was clear that he was not used to such displays of affection. He held himself too stiffly and seemed unable to relax. 

“Thanks, Lily. I promise too. We’ll always be best friends!”

The figures swirled around Harry and he fell backwards on to the rug in Snape’s sitting room. He stared, unbelievingly, back into the Pensieve. Snape had been friends with his mother! Best friends! Yet he’d betrayed her to Voldemort. It didn’t make any sense. 

There was only one person left to turn to even though he had no idea how he felt about the man anymore. He would have to ask Albus Dumbledore.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry ran from the dungeons, not slowing down despite the hundreds of stairs. Dumbledore’s gargoyle slid out of his way as if it was expecting him. He was out of breath as he burst into the Headmaster’s office.

Dumbledore was standing in the middle of the room with a heavy travelling cloak around his shoulders. With everything else that had happened, Harry had entirely forgotten that he was supposed to be fetching a Horcux with Dumbledore tonight.

“There you are, Harry, at last. I fear that we must make haste, there is not much time. The tide - “

“Snape!” Harry interrupted with a yell, “He was the one that told Voldemort about my parents! He got them killed! And you bonded me to him!”

Dumbledore eyes lost their easy twinkle and his shoulders slumped sadly.

“Yes, you are correct but, Harry, allow me to explain,” Dumbledore glanced at the clock on the wall behind Harry, “Severus was a young man, not much older than you are now, who made a terrible mistake and came to bitterly regret his actions. He has spent his life trying to atone for his actions of that one night. I am sorry, but tonight time is of the essence and I must retrieve the Horcrux soon. I will understand if you are too upset to accompany me, but if you would wait here then I shall give you a better explanation when I return.”

Harry wanted to yell and scream. Yet again Dumbledore was not telling him everything, but he was torn. He wanted to see Voldemort defeated. He let out a lungful of air.

“I want to come with you, but when we get back, I want to know how you could ever trust that, that _traitor_.”

Dumbledore gave a troubled nod. 

“Thank you, Harry, for your patience. Now, you will need your Invisibility Cloak for our excursion tonight. If you would go and get it and I shall meet you in the Entrance Hall.”

Harry’s jaw clenched but he turned and left. There would be time later to get all his answers from Dumbledore. In his haste, he’d forgotten something important. Malfoy had finally succeeded with whatever he’d been doing in the Room of Requirement, and that had to be bad news. His legs were tired from running all over the castle and he was getting a stitch as he ran into the Common Room. 

Hermione and Ron were sitting next to the fire as Harry came down from the dorm carrying his Invisibility Cloak, his Map and the phial of all the remaining Felix Felicis. 

“You alright, mate? Don’t you have that meeting with Dumbledore tonight?” Ron asked as he approached them. 

“Yeah, I’ve got to go, but it’s about Malfoy. I just know he’s up to something,” Harry said. Hermione and Ron exchanged a knowing glance.

“Harry,” Hermione began, sounding slightly exasperated. 

“Look, just take these,” Harry gave them the Marauder’s Map and the phial of potion. “And keep an eye out. If nothing happens then that’s great, but Dumbledore’s going to be leaving Hogwart’s tonight, which means it’ll be unprotected. Please, just, just keep an eye out.”

Ron looked at him worriedly. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Harry? You look…” Ron hesitated, before carrying on determinately, ”Don’t worry, we’ll watch the Map till you get back.”

He was suddenly glad that Ron was his friend again. Hermione’s eyebrows were raised skeptically. She’d never believed that Malfoy was up to anything and she was conspicuously silent now.

“I have to go, Dumbledore’s waiting for me. Use up all of the Felix if you have to!” Harry urged them, trying to impress upon them how sure he felt that Malfoy was going to do something awful that evening. He left, hurrying down the stairs two at a time to get to the Entrance Hall as quickly as he could. Dumbledore was already there. He smiled and opened the heavy oak door, letting in the cool evening air, as soon as he saw Harry.

“You have your cloak? Excellent! I must ask that you put it on now, I would rather that I was seen leaving Hogwart’s alone tonight.”

Harry pulled the Cloak over him. It covered him completely as he stepped out into the cool evening air.

“Where are we going, sir?”

“We shall head into Hogsmeade, towards the Leaky Cauldron. It is a bar that I am known to frequent upon occasion and won’t raise any suspicions. We shall Apparate rather than going into the bar itself, however I’m afraid that we must walk in silence. I wouldn’t want anyone to suspect that I am not alone, Harry.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said quietly. They made their way through the Hogwart grounds. He wished that Dumbledore was free to talk. There was no-one outside and he doubted that anyone would have seen Dumbledore’s lips move if they did see him. He wanted to know more about Snape. He wanted to know why Dumbledore trusted him and it seemed too convenient that they had to travel in silence and, so, Dumbledore was unable to give him an explanation. It was an uncharitable thought; this was a mission to destroy part of Voldemort’s soul, they couldn’t take stupid risks just because Harry wanted information. 

As they got into Hogsmeade they saw Rosmerta, who was hovering on the steps of the Hog’s Head, watching them nervously. Dumbledore greeted her cheerfully before declining her offer of a drink. They continued walking until she was out of sight and then turned as if to go into the Leaky Cauldron.

“Harry?” Dumbledore called out softly, putting his good hand out in front of him.

“Here, sir.” Harry answered, just as quietly, putting his Cloak covered hand in Dumbledore’s so that they were ready to Side Along Apparate. Dumbledore smiled down at him blindly and then they were twisting and squeezing away. The cold sea wind whipped around him as they arrived in their new location. Harry pulled the Cloak off his head and looked down at the dark water below. The waves crashed against the rock they had landed upon and dark cliffs towered over them.

“There, Harry,” Dumbledore pointed to a crack in the cliffs. “Do you see the cave? We’ll have to swim for it!”

With that, the old man jumped into the sea, swimming with more strength than Harry would have thought possible for a man of Dumbledore’s age. Harry made sure that his Cloak was secure and waited a second, gathering his strength. He’d been running around all evening and he had never had enough practise at swimming to be a strong swimmer. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs and dived inelegantly into the choppy sea. 

The shock of the cold hit him and he struggled in the sudden darkness to find which way was up. Finally, his head broke the surface and he gasped in as much air as he could. His mouth tasted of salt and he wanted to spit. 

“Harry!” he thought he heard Dumbledore calling him, but the sound of the waves was so loud that he wasn’t sure. He kicked his legs back and tried to paddle at the water. Slowly, he neared the cliffs and Dumbledore pulled him out of the water.

The cave was dark and foreboding and Harry could only imagine how scary it must have been to the children that Tom Riddle had brought down here when he was a child himself. His impression of the cave only worsened as they made their way into the second chamber and he saw the lake of Inferi. 

The quest for the horcrux was a success, but at a terrible price. The Horcrux was hidden beneath a potion that had to be drunk. Dumbledore insisted that he be the one to drink it, although it made him incoherent with despair. Finally, when all the potion was drunk, the Horcrux was released. But Dumbledore became overwhelmingly thirsty and Harry could not conjure any water; he was forced to take water from the lake of Inferi. 

The Inferi, sensing the intrusion, had attacked. Luckily the two of them were able to flee and Harry Side Along Apparated them to Hogsmeade. Madame Rosmerta was still outside the Hog’s Head and she pointed out the Dark Mark that was hanging over Hogwarts. Harry had been so sure that something bad was going to happen that evening, but he’d never imagined it would be this bad. Madame Rosmerta leant them brooms so that they could fly to Hogwarts with all speed. 

They landed on the Astronomy Tower, directly under the Dark Mark. Dumbledore, who had seemed to recover slightly when Rosmerta had told them about the Dark Mark, stumbled as he got off his broom. 

“Severus, Harry, get Severus,” Dumbledore said, his voice painfully weak as he hunched over, barely able to stand. Harry’s gut twisted to hear Dumbledore say his mate’s name and he wondered again how Dumbledore could possibly trust Snape. Before he could go further than a few steps, there was the sound of footsteps, hurrying up the Tower stairs. 

_”Inaedifico,”_ Dumbledore murmured just as Draco Malfoy burst open the door to the stairwell.

“Expelliarmus!” Malfoy yelled at Dumbledore, not noticing Harry.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry echoed, pointing his wand at Malfoy, amazed that the boy still hadn’t noticed him. Malfoy’s wand stayed resolutely in his hand and he still didn’t turn to look at Harry.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry yelled, louder this time. Still nothing happened. He took a step forwards, but there was something blocking his path. There was an invisible barrier in front of him and he couldn’t get through it. He tried moving to the side instead, but the barrier held him in place. Even stepping backwards was impossible. He was cocooned and his magic couldn’t get through the invisible barrier. Neither Malfoy or Dumbledore appeared to be able to see or hear him. He nearly howled in frustration. Dumbledore was sick and frail and Malfoy was standing over him with a wand. 

Dumbledore had had a split second to defend himself against Malfoy, but instead he’d chosen to cast a spell on Harry. Painful realisation dawned. Dumbledore had wanted to make sure that he was safe, and the best way to do that was to keep him hidden. Of course, Malfoy was an alpha, He would be able to smell Harry’s scent, but Harry was willing to bet that Dumbledore’s spell had encased his smell just as it had encased his body.

He yelled and slapped his hand against the barrier. Malfoy and Dumbledore were talking, their voices muted through the barrier that Dumbledore had put up. 

Dumbledore looked so weak and his voice was completely inaudible to Harry. 

“You don’t understand!” Malfoy cried out, high pitched and loud enough to reach Harry. “He’s got my mother, he’ll kill her!”

Dumbledore’s answer was lost to Harry, but he understood that Malfoy didn’t want to kill the Headmaster. That Dumbledore was reasoning with him and there was a chance that everything was going to be alright. Malfoy’s wand lowered, the tip no longer pointing threateningly and Harry let out a sigh of relief. Malfoy might be a school yard bully, but he wasn’t a murderer. Just then the door to the stairwell flew open again and Death Eaters swarmed on to the Astronomy Tower. Without being able to see their faces he couldn’t tell who they were, but he could hear their loud jeers and catcalls at the weakened Headmaster. 

Malfoy’s wand was raised again, but even Harry could see the unease and unwillingness in Malfoy’s posture. Someone else stepped out onto the top of the Tower. It was Snape, his black robes whipping around him in the wind. Harry stilled, trying to hear what was being said on the other side of the magical barrier. He’d come to know Snape’s face so well recently, but he’d learnt so much more about him tonight. His mother had been friends with Snape. She’d actually like him, but he was the reason she was dead.

There was a look of agony on Snape’s face that Harry couldn’t understand. And then Snape raised his wand.

Green light shot out of Snape’s wand, flying through the air towards the Headmaster. Harry watched, trapped and powerless as the green light hit Dumbledore and the old man was pushed up and off the ground. His body arced in the air, limp and dead, and then it fell, disappearing beneath the parapet. 

Harry gasped, almost unable to believe what Snape had done. The Death Eaters were cheering loudly, gleefully looking down over the Tower railings to where Dumbledore’s body would already be lying on the ground. Malfoy stood pale and rooted to the spot as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Snape turned sharply and looked Harry right in the eye. He blinked, suddenly realising that Dumbledore was truly dead and the spells that he had cast had died with him. Dumbledore’s protective barrier had fallen and he was alone and surrounded by Death Eaters. 

All his confusion and uncertainties about Snape seemed to twist until something broke inside him and all he could feel was a burning hatred. 

Snape flicked his wand, scowling at Harry and then turned away. 

“You - “ Harry yelled, trying to take a step forward. But the barrier that had fallen when Dumbledore died was back up. Snape had him trapped behind the invisible barrier once again. “NO! Let me out!” Harry screamed, banging against the air. All these years, Dumbledore had trusted Snape and he’d been trusting a traitor all this time. 

Snape herded the Death Eaters from the Tower, grabbing Malfoy by the arm to shake him from his shocked state. Harry was left alone and he banged ineffectually against Snape’s barrier. The air inside his invisible prison was quickly growing stale and he tried to think of a spell he could use to get out of his confinement. Perhaps Snape had put him in here to die. His body would never be found if he died like this. He jabbed his wand at the invisible barrier, but his wand seemed to pass right through. 

He breathed a sigh of relief. If his wand could get out, then so could he. The air he breathed tasted less stale and he put his hand out, testing to see if the barrier was still there. His hand passed through the air and Harry realised the barrier had fallen. He was free. Snape must have become distracted by escaping from Hogwarts and not been able to maintain the spell. 

Harry set off at a run. He had to catch up with Snape. He bounded down the stairs, but when he got to the bottom his stopped in horror. Members of the Order were duelling Death Eaters. He saw a few bodies lying on the floor and he desperately hoped they were just unconscious and that no-one else was actually dead.

There was no sign of Snape though. He raced along the corridor, seeing more people duelling. There wasn’t time to join in and help, he had to get to Snape before he got away. He saw a flash of Snape’s bat-like robes at the bottom of a flight of stairs and he ran down. As he got to the bottom he saw Snape making his way across the Entrance Hall. Harry followed him, across the Hall and out into the night.

“Come back and fight me! You killed my parents! And Dumbledore! Kill me! Fight me!” Harry yelled, casting a curse towards Snape. His eyes were clogged with tears and knew the spell hadn’t gone anywhere near Snape. “Come back!”

Snape and Malfoy were running in front of him but, at Harry’s scream, Snape stopped. Malfoy carried on running, a blond streak across the grounds of Hogwarts. Snape snarled and turned to face Harry. 

He wanted to kill this man! His bonded! He couldn’t believe that he’d kissed the man, that he’d felt guilty for kissing Ginny when Snape was nothing but a slimey traitor. 

“I trusted you!” Harry yelled, raising his wand.

“Expelliarmus!” Snape hissed, and Harry’s wand flew to his hand. 

“I trusted you,“ Harry repeated dumbly, “And you killed him! All this time. All the time we spent together, it was all a lie!”

Harry sprang forward. He might not have his wand anymore, but that wasn’t going to stop him from killing Snape. He attacked him with his fists, punching at Snape’s chest. 

Snape didn’t even try to move out of his way. He just caught up Harry’s wrists in one hand and held them tightly. Harry could feel the bones of his wrists rubbing together, but he welcomed the pain. He laughed bitterly as he thought of how ridiculous it was that the two of them had put so much effort into getting along, to not letting their bond fail. 

“Is the bond even real? Will it mysteriously fail now? You disgusting, treacherous liar!”

“Listen well, Potter,” Snape hissed, his mouth was close to Harry’s ear and he seemed to be whispering straight into Harry’s head. “I am your alpha and our bond is eternal. There is no escape for you, our bond will never, can never, fail. You will bear my scent for the rest of your life.”

He pulled Harry forward and pressed his open mouth against the place on Harry’s neck where he had first bitten him. Snape’s teeth sank through the fabric of his shirt and Harry could feel the man cutting into him. He screamed a cry of pain and anguish as he struggled to get away. But Snape was too strong, he was immovable and Harry could do nothing but wait until he was finished. Tears streamed down his face, but Snape didn’t care. After everything they’d done, after all that time spent in each other’s company, Snape had never really cared. 

Harry sucked back a breath, choking slightly on the lump in his throat and screamed again. He hated Snape so much.

“Hush, little omega,” Snape whispered as he pulled away from Harry’s neck. He wished that could hear the spite in Snape’s voice, but the man sounded as genuine as he had on those evenings that they’d spent together in Snape’s quarters. He almost sounded sad. “Sleep now, _Dormium._ ”

Instantly, Harry’s eyes felt heavy and his knees buckled. He had no idea why Snape would put him to sleep rather than hurt him or take him prisoner and carry him to Voldemort or even just knock him out instantly by Stunning him. He struggled to resist, to try and keep his eyes open. 

“Severus,” he muttered as he felt strong arms catch him and lower him to the ground. 

He woke up in the Hospital Wing with Ron and Hermione by his side. Most of the Order of the Phoenix were there too, huddled around his and Bill Weasley’s beds. Some of them were crying and Harry knew that Dumbledore’s body had been found. 

“Severus is gone too,” Professor McGonagall said in a strained voice. “I don’t know how it could have happened. I suppose he thought the Death Eaters would suspect something if he didn’t leave with them...But…It doesn’t make any sense.”

Harry twisted his head away from all the onlookers. Hermione put her hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. 

“I think he went _with_ them,” Hermione pipped up. Harry shut his eyes. He didn’t want to know how his intelligent friend had worked out that Snape was a traitor. “We went to fetch Professor Snape when the fighting first started and, and Professor Flitwick told us to wait outside his office whilst he spoke to Professor Snape. But then Snape came out and told us that Professor Flitwick was ill and that...Oh, God! He must have stunned Professor Flitwick! And I just believed him!”

“Hermione, are you sure?” Professor Lupin asked softly from somewhere above Harry’s bed. Harry hadn’t seen that he was there and he scrunched his eyes more tightly shut; he didn’t want to see Lupin. “Severus has always had to walk a fine line, but Dumbledore always had complete faith in him. Imagine how alone he must be, now that Albus is dead. Now is hardly the time to question each other’s loyalty. Severus is as much a member of the Order as I am.”

Harry shook his head without opening his eyes. 

“He...He killed Dumbledore,” Harry said quietly, enunciating as clearly as Snape at his most vicious. He was so angry. He’d seen Dumbledore die and the worst part was he’d always _known_ that Snape was a true Death Eater. He shouldn’t have let his mind be swayed just because Snape had made him a few cups of tea. He shouldn’t feel this betrayed. 

“What?” Hermione asked incredulously. In the background, he could hear a few people muttering, but he tuned them out and opened his eyes. 

“Snape was up there, at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Malfoy was supposed to be the one to do it, to kill Dumbledore, but, but he couldn’t. So Snape...He didn’t even hesitate.”

“What happened next, Harry?” Ron asked. “Madam Pomfrey said that you weren’t Stunned, that you were just spelled Asleep.”

Harry blinked stupidly. He had no idea why Snape hadn’t Stunned him, all he could really remember was Snape biting into his neck. Surely his clothes must be torn and there would be blood all over his collar. 

“I chased after him. I wanted…” Harry’s hand clutched convulsively at the the bed sheet under him. He wasn’t sure anymore what he’d wanted with Snape. He’d been so sure that he’d just wanted to kill him, but now he thought that he’d wanted an explanation. Snape had been kind to him once, they’d been getting on! But none of that had been real. Snape had fooled him just like he’d fooled Dumbledore. He thought of the warmth of Snape’s quarters and the smell of his tea combined with his alpha scent. His fingers tightened in the bed sheets and his eyes blinked shut. With his eyes closed, he saw again the way that Snape’s spell had hit Dumbledore, the old man’s life taken from him in an instant. Harry opened his eyes, not willing to see that moment again. 

Ron gave him a sad look.

“Yeah, me too, mate. We’ll make sure the greasy bastard pays for this, don’t you worry.”

“He’ll pay,” Harry muttered, repeating Ron. He turned his head to face the wall, trying not to listen as the others grieved for Dumbledore.

Further down the Hospital Wing he could hear Mrs Weasley crying, he assumed she was crying about Dumbledore’s death. 

“He was always such a beautiful boy, and he was going to be married too!” Mrs Weasley wailed. Harry turned over in confusion. He wasn’t injured, but he stayed lying down in the hospital bed.

Fleur, who was standing at the end of Bill’s bed watching Mrs Weasley, suddenly scowled. 

“And what do you mean by zat?” said Fleur loudly. “What do you mean, ‘e was going to be married?’”

Mrs. Weasley raised her tear-stained face, looking startled. “Well - only that -”

“You theenk Bill will not wish to marry me anymore?” demanded Fleur. “You theenk, because of these bites, he will not love me?”

“No, that’s not what I -”

“Because ‘e will!” said Fleur, drawing herself up to her full height and throwing back her long mane of silver hair. “It would take more zan a werewolf to stop Bill loving me!”

“Well, yes, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Weasley, “but I thought perhaps - given how - how he -”

“You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per’aps, you hoped?” said Fleur, her nostrils flaring. “What do I care how he looks? I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my husband is brave!”

Harry looked away. Ron and Hermione were watching the pair with rapt attention, but something about the scene made Harry feel desperately lonely. 

“You see!" said a strained voice. Tonks was glaring at Lupin. "She still wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten! She doesn't care!" 

"It's different," said Lupin, barely moving his lips and looking suddenly tense. "Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely-" 

"But I don't care either, I don't care!" said Tonks, seizing the front of Lupin's robes and shaking them. "I've told you a million times...."

And the meaning of Tonk's Patronus and her mouse-colored hair, and the reason she had come running to find Dumbledore when she had heard a rumor that someone had been attacked by Greyback, all suddenly became clear to Harry; it had not been Sirius that Tonks had fallen in love with after all. 

"And I've told you a million times," said Lupin, refusing to meet her eyes, staring at the floor, "that I am too old for you, too poor....too dangerous...."

Harry blinked and found there were tears in his eyes. Everyone around him, even Ron and Hermione, were part of a couple. They all knew what it was like to love someone, except him. The only person who he’d ever been close to like that was Snape, who was a murderer and a traitor. 

“Mate?” Ron whispered. “I, er, went to see him. Dumbledore. He was holding this,” Ron put the locket that Harry had taken from the cave into his hand. “Is it the, er, You-Know-What?”

The locket looked odd in the bright light of the Hospital Wing and, when Harry clicked it open, a note fell out. Harry read with mounting horror as he realised that this locket wasn’t a Horcrux. Dumbledore had risked his life to get this locket and it was worthless. 

“No,” he whispered back, as he pocketed the note and the worthless locket. He’d explain everything to his friends later, but right now there were too many people around. He began to get out of bed, his limbs felt heavy as he struggled to stand up.

“Mr Potter! Just what do you think you’re doing?” Madam Pomfrey’s loud voice sounded shrill and everyone turned to look at him. “You will spend the night here.”

Harry let Hermione push him back down on to the bed as around him members of the Order discussed what should happen to Hogwarts now. They were discussing the future of the one place he’d ever really called home and Harry knew he should join in. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be Harry Potter, the Chosen One, he wanted to just be a grieving teenager, just for little while longer. 

It was decided that Hogwarts would remain open and that Dumbledore would be buried in the grounds. A few of the students left the school immediately, but almost everyone else stayed on so that they could attend Dumbledore’s funeral and pay their last respects.

The train for Kings’ Cross was going to leave a few hours after Dumbledore’s funeral and Harry still hadn’t packed. He knew he wouldn’t be coming back to Hogwarts next year and he wanted to cling on to his time here just a little bit longer. Which was why, an hour before the funeral was due to start, Harry was still in the dormitory, throwing his belongings into his trunk. Everyone else had already packed and was already down in the Common Room. The dorm looked strangely empty without Ron’s clothes and Seamus’ shoes strewn everywhere. 

Harry threw a bunched up T-shirt into his trunk, not bothering to fold it first, and his hand touched something very cold. He hissed in surprise as he pulled his hand quickly out of the trunk and looked to see what he had touched. It was the little crystal made of Unicorn Tears that Snape had made for him. The little yellow flower in the middle of the crystal hadn’t faded at all and it looked as bright and cheery as it had that day in Arles when Snape had picked the flower from the market stall. 

Harry flung the crystal away from him with as much force as he could. It struck the floor and shattered. The little flower was exposed to the air and it instantly began to wilt. The yellow petals turned black in seconds and then it started to rot and crumble into dust. The shards of crystal melted like ice, dripping away and leaving nothing behind but a damp patch on the rug. 

Within a minute, it was like Snape’s gift had never existed at all. 

He stuffed everything else he could think of into his trunk and left. He’d intended to stay in the dorm for awhile, but the abrupt reminder of Snape made him want to leave as quickly as possible. 

Downstairs everyone was sitting around, but the usual sounds of laughter and loud chatter were absent. Some people were crying and others just staring around, not sure what to do with themselves. Everyone had loved Dumbledore in some way or another. 

The sun shone brightly throughout the funeral. Harry had spent so long looking up to Dumbledore, he had trusted him completely. In the last few days, his trust had begun to waver but that didn’t change the grief that he felt. Fawkes’ singing rang in Harry’s ears as the funeral finished. 

“I’m not coming back here next year,” Harry told Ron and Hermione as they made their way back up to the castle. 

Hermione stumbled and looked at him in confusion.

“What do you mean? How will you study for your NEWT’s?”

“I mean, I’m not coming back to Hogwarts. I have to search for the rest of the Horcruxes.”

Ron put his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“I’m coming with you then,” he told Harry. Hermione’s expression cleared.

“Of course you are, it’ll be the three of us together,” she said primly. Harry smiled. It felt like the first time he’d smiled since he’d seen Dumbledore killed. He would find the remaining Horcruxes and he would destroy Voldemort. There would never be any need to tell his friends that he had been a Horcrux, or that he had been made into an omega. They would never know that he was bonded to Snape. If the bond wasn’t going to break, and the only consequence of it was that he smelled of Snape, then he could just ignore the bond and go back to hating Snape. 

Snape, the liar and manipulator, had made everything seem so complicated. But the truth was that the two of them didn’t have to like each other. There was no link between the two of them besides a shared scent. It was, as Snape had so mercilessly explained to him, an eternal bond and no matter how much Harry hated Snape, it wasn’t going to break. 

He hated that he shared the scent of Dumbledore’s killer. He hated that he’d ever seen anything about Snape as being attractive. He’d even broken up with Ginny because of Snape. He was free to go out with her now, if he wanted to but he didn’t. He was too full of anger and grief to even think about Ginny anymore.

He returned to Privet Drive and let the monotony of life there seep over him. He knew that once he turned seventeen he would never have to live with the Dursleys ever again and that was a comfort. Aunt Petunia gave him a list of chores to do each morning, but most of them were fairly easy and he managed to get back to the solitude of his room by early afternoon without coming into too much contact with either Uncle Vernon or Dudley. Which was good as Uncle Vernon could barely stand the sight of Harry in the house, he yelled loudly at him every time he saw Harry. He seemed angrier than ever as he blamed Harry for a string of unlucky things that had recently happened to him. From what Harry could gather, Uncle Vernon was having problems at work and was being held responsible for a batch of faulty drill bits. The transmission on his car had broken and a pipe in the cellar had burst, causing a small flood. A gay couple had moved in next door and were, according to Uncle Vernon, destroying the neighbourhood and lowering the value of his house.

Harry counted himself lucky that Uncle Vernon didn’t think he was gay too. The new neighbours moving in had led to Uncle Vernon ranting about how dirty and perverse that sort of thing was. How no real man should let another man touch him like that. It was nothing that Harry hadn’t heard him say before, and it made him think of his own reaction to finding a man attractive. He couldn’t stop the instinctive flinch of disgust, but he’d be an idiot if he let Uncle Vernon’s opinions form his own. Uncle Vernon, after all, detested magic, which was the most brilliant thing in the whole world. 

Not that he was really gay. He’d only kissed one man, and he was never going to kiss that particular man again. But, with distance, he could admit that he didn’t find Ginny, or any other girl really, that attractive. Certainly not in the stomach churning way that he’d once felt about Snape. 

If what he’d seen in Snape’s memories where true then all alphas were male. Which meant that he, as an omega, might only be attracted to alphas. Which would mean that he wasn’t technically gay. 

Sometimes, after he’d finished his chores, he’d sit in his bedroom and watch Privet Drive and he’d see the gay neighbours walking along the pavement. The two men would smile at each other as they held hands. They looked so happy together. It made Harry think that it didn’t really matter what exact label he used. He wanted someone to look at him like that, like he was loved, and it didn’t matter if that person was a man or not. 

Inevitably, he’d start thinking about Snape. 

Almost every evening he would trace his fingers over the bite on his neck. Even without looking at it he knew what could be seen there. The outline of Snape’s crooked teeth. It made him slightly sick to think about. That that greasy, disgusting man was bonded to him, but he knew the next time he saw his mate, he would kill him. It revolted him to think of all those hours he’d spent in Snape’s company. If the bond could never fail, then why had Snape forced the two of them to spend time together? He couldn’t think of a single good reason. The man had spent years making it very clear how much he, a loyal Death Eater, hated Harry. So why had that changed? Did Voldemort know that he was an omega now? Had Snape told him? Why had Snape lied and said that they would break the bond after a year’s time?

Nothing made sense to Harry, but he supposed it didn’t matter now. He was safe at Privet Drive. 

He still wasn’t sure what to make of what he’d seen in Snape’s Pensieve. It seemed almost impossible that Snape had been friends with his Mum. He’d seen, the first time he’d looked into the man’s memories, Snape call her a Mudblood, so how close could they have really been? In the memory, his mother and Snape had talked about Aunt Petunia. He was half-tempted to ask her if she remembered Snape. She had barely spoken more than a few sharp words to him in years and he couldn’t imagine actually having a conversation with her, so he decided it wasn’t worth asking her about Snape. 

The only company he had was Hedwig and the Prince’s book. Harry spent hours lying on his bed with his face buried in the book. He thought that he’d read every annotation that the Prince had made, but occasionally he’d find a new one. Even just rereading the old ones was fun too. It felt like he wasn’t alone. 

He’d been at Privet Drive a week when he found one of the scribbled notes that turned his world upside down. He’d opened the Prince’s book at random, not caring what he read about. It had opened on a Lust Dampening Potion. The Prince had made a few corrections to the directions, altering how many times it should be stirred and how long it should be left to cool. However, there was another scribble that Harry hadn’t noticed before. Right at the bottom of the recipe, scrawled out in the Prince’s spiky handwriting was a note that read, ‘Any alpha that needs this should be gelded. Stupid knotheads.’

Harry could barely believe his eyes. The Prince knew about alphas, which, judging by the fact that the only people that knew about alphas were alphas themselves, meant that the Prince was an alpha! Harry gaped in astonishment, reading the line again and again, just in case he’d read it wrong or missed out a word. The Prince was an alpha. He hugged the book. He didn’t know why it felt like such a big deal, but it really was. His eyes prickled as tears welled up. He’d felt so alone and isolated from all his friends, but the Prince would have understood him.

Knothead was a strange word. Harry had never heard it before. It did sort of remind Harry of Snape, who used to use ‘dunderhead’ as an insult. But then maybe it wasn’t that strange. Harry already knew that the Prince had a bigger vocabulary than him. Knothead was probably some mediaeval slang that he’d never heard before, or something. 

After a few more uneventful weeks the day for him to leave Privet Drive arrived. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia left before him. It wasn’t difficult to say good-bye to them. Although he was rather surprised when Dudley actually offered to shake his hand before he went. 

He was lying on his bed, a little after the Dursleys had left, when Ron and Hermione and half of the Order of the Phoenix turned up to rescue him. His initial jubilation quickly turned to fear as Mad-Eye Moody described the plan to get him to the Burrow. There would be seven Harry Potters, which meant that six people would take Polyjuice Potion and look like him. It was so dangerous but Harry eventually conceded that it was necessary. 

Everyone paired up, each Harry travelling with someone. Harry himself was going to be travelling with Hagrid on his motorbike. Everything happened so fast that he barely had time to throw the few things that he’d taken out of his trunk back in and collect Hedwig’s cage. 

Leaving Privet Drive felt rather anti-climatic. There was a time when he would have been so excited to be in Privet Drive without the Dursleys. Those were the rare occasions when he could take some food from the fridge, or the bin, and watch whatever he wanted on TV. Now the house just felt dingy, and he had no sense of nostalgia as he left and got into the sidecar of Hagrid’s motorbike.

Air rushed past him as Hagrid drove them up into the sky and Harry felt a surge of joy at the sense of freedom that flying always brought him. He gulped in a lungful of air and tasted something. That smell was so familiar and so dearly missed. It had been so long since he’d smelled it, but he froze as he realised what it was. It had been weeks since he’d last smelled Snape’s alpha scent. Tears prickled, sudden and unbidden, behind his eyes and shook his head. He shouldn’t be upset that Snape was a traitor, he’d suspected it for years. But if he could smell Snape then that could only mean that they were about to be attacked; that they were going to be ambushed at any second.

“Death Eaters!” he yelled as they passed through a cloud, but it wasn’t much of a warning. As the mist of the cloud faded he saw they were already surrounded by Death Eaters and the curses and jinxes began to fly through the air. Harry cast as quickly as he could, desperately defending himself and the unarmed Hagrid. Someone was screaming, but Harry was too busy too look round.

“His scent’s too weak. I can’t tell which one’s the alpha!” a Death Eater yelled in frustration. 

Hagrid revved the motorbike and zoomed away. Two hooded Death Eaters followed after them on brooms, pursuing them with wands raised. Twisting round to keep his wand aimed on their pursuers, Harry saw everyone else was scattering through the cloud. There was nothing he could do to help them now.

He could still smell Snape in the air and the scent was so strong that Harry knew that he must be one of the Death Eaters following Hagrid and him. After being parted from that scent for so long, it felt even stronger than ever. It was intoxicating and he hated himself for being affected by Dumbledore’s murderer. Harry sneered and shot a Stunner at one of the Death Eaters; the figure swerved quickly to avoid his spell and his hood fell back, revealing his face. It was Stan Shunpike! He wasn’t a Death Eater! He must be under the Imperius Curse!

Stan’s face looked slack and vacant and Harry knew he couldn’t harm the poor, cursed man.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry yelled and Stan Shunpike’s wand flew out from his unresisting fingers and arced through the air towards Harry. Long fingers grabbed the wand out of the air long before it reached him.

“It’s not Potter! Go back! Aid the others!” Snape low voice cut through the air so clearly that he might have been sitting next to Harry. His stomach felt like he’d just been punched. Snape’s voice was so familiar and Harry hated him for it. 

Shunpike peeled away so that it was only Snape left following them. Harry aimed his wand again and cast Stunning Curse after Stunning Curse, but Snape was too fast. He always seemed to know where Harry was going to aim for and he always managed to duck out of the way, never once returning Harry’s spells.

Harry screamed in impotent fury. Why wasn’t Snape fighting him? Why had he betrayed them all and murdered Dumbledore and yet not given Harry up to Voldemort?

“Fight!” Harry screamed, even though he could see Hagrid’s shoulders tense in surprise. Snape sent a wordless Curse at him, but it missed him by miles. Harry was poised, ready to deflect any other spells when he saw something black streaking towards them. It was Voldemort himself, but he wasn’t on a broom. He was flying through the air completely unaided. 

Harry could hear his manic, high-pitched laughter. 

“And so, by a process of elimination, we come to you, the true Harry Potter,” Voldemort smiled, but the wand in Harry’s hand seemed to act of its own accord. It spun between his fingers so that it was pointing at Voldemort and it let out a spurt of golden fire, even though Harry had not thought of a single spell.

Voldemort screamed as the fire leapt towards him, destroying the wand he was holding. Splinters and the ashes of the useless wand fell from his hand.

“Your wand, Severus, give me your wand!” Voldemort yelled desperately.

But just then they seemed to pass through a barrier in the air and Hagrid aimed his motorbike downwards. Voldemort screamed behind him and stilled in the air. He and Snape were unable to pass through the barrier.

“We made it, ‘Arry! We made it! You-Know-Who ‘imself was chasing us, but we made it!” Hagrid yelled happily. Harry smiled up at him and then looked round. Snape and Voldemort were already distant black dots in the sky. Without the Horcrux he couldn’t feel Voldemort’s anger but he knew the man would be furious to have been so close to him, and then lose him. Harry wondered if he would take his anger out on Snape, before he reminded himself he didn’t care and it was what Snape deserved anyway.

Hagrid landed the motorbike with a soft thump on the wet grass. 

“Hello there!” an older man called out, walking towards them cautiously. “You must be Harry Potter. I’m Ted Tonks, Nymphadora’s father.”

“Hello, sir.”

The man nodded approvingly and looked at them both.

“So you didn’t run into any trouble? No injuries?”

Harry opened up Hedwig’s cage to make sure she was alright. She nibbled his hand affectionately whilst Hagrid began to tell Ted Tonks about their run in with the Death Eaters.

"Death Eaters? What d'you mean, Death Eaters? I thought they didn’t know you were being moved tonight, I thought -"

"They knew,” Harry said grimly. Mr Tonk’s face fell. His daughter was out there, risking her life to protect Harry’s. “I’m sorry, Mr Tonks.”

The man shook his head.

“It’s not you fault, lad.”

“Aye, an’ you just remember that, ‘arry,” Hagrid said, getting off the motorbike with a groan, “We’d best be off. Oughtn’ upset Molly by bein’ late.”

Mr Tonks took a small, silver backed hairbrush out of his pocket and solemnly handed it to Hagrid.

“Nice to meet you, Harry Potter, and Hagrid, I’ll look after your bike until you can come and collect it,” Mr Tonks said with a smile, which seemed rather sad to Harry.

“Thank you, sir, for - “ Harry said as he reached for the Portkey in Hagrid’s hand, but as soon as he touched it they began to spin away. Harry, Hagrid and Hedwig, still in her cage, landed with a thump outside the Burrow. Ginny was standing outside waiting for them, but her face didn’t change as she saw them. Her face was as motionless as a death mask.

“Ginny?” Harry asked with a frown, but she just shook her head. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

“George,” she whispered brokenly and ran into the house. He and Hagrid exchanged an uneasy glance. Surely George was alright. Nothing bad could happen to him; he was always so happy, so full of good cheer. 

Harry stepped into the kitchen of the Burrow, with Hagrid hunching over to follow just behind him. From the parlour there was a terrible sound of wailing. Harry’s first thought was that the Weasley’s ghoul had escaped and was running loose. He walked forward in a daze, his dread growing with each step that he took. 

Mrs Weasley was kneeling on the floor, her face buried in a blanket covered lump that was lying on the sofa. Her arms were cradling the lump and stroking it gently as she cried. The noises she was making weren’t words, but she seemed to begging the lump to get up and to move.

Harry stared in horror as he realised there was a body under the blanket. Ginger hair poked out from one end, and there were smears of blood on the sofa and on the blanket. He realised that George Weasley was dead.

“Harry,” someone said, “Come away.” 

Hagrid’s heavy hand was on his shoulder, turning him around, so that he had to twist his head to catch one last glimpse of George’s covered corpse before he was led away. Hagrid took him back to the kitchen and deposited him in a chair whilst Harry stared dumbly at the table in front of him. He couldn’t believe this had happened. Of course he’d known that it was a risk when Mad Eye had said that they would use Polyjuice Potion. But he’d never dreamed that something like this would happen. George had been killed because he had been Polyjuiced to look like Harry. He’d died protecting Harry, just like so many others. And, worst of all, Harry himself had escaped without even a scratch on him. 

Someone sat down next to him and put a cup of tea in front of him. He turned and saw Remus Lupin. The man looked exhausted and there were cuts all over his face.

“Harry,” Remus said tiredly, “This isn’t your fault. We all knew the risks going into this and everyone chose to be there tonight. Grieve for George, and honour his sacrifice, but you cannot blame yourself for this.”

Harry turned back to look at the table. How could he not blame himself, when Mrs Weasley was still making those terrible, inhuman noises?

The kitchen door opened, and Hermione and Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped inside. They both looked uninjured, but their faces quickly became concerned at the somber atmosphere in the kitchen.

“What’s happened?” Shacklebolt asked. 

“What’s that noise?” Hermione asked, walking round the kitchen table to go and investigate.

“I was cursed from behind, I never even saw who it was. George cast the counter-curse for me, but they were too quick. It was the killing Curse. I saw the light die from his eyes, and then he fell,” Lupin looked down guiltily. “I followed after him, I thought Molly would want him home, but there were so many Death Eaters. I couldn’t reach him until after he’d hit the ground.”

“George? George is dead?” Hermione squeaked.

Lupin nodded slowly.

Shacklebolt sat down heavily at the kitchen table. 

“There were too many of them. They must have been expecting us,” Shacklebolt said slowly and Harry looked up to see Shacklebolt and Lupin exchanging weary glances before turning to Harid.

“No!” Harry burst out. George was lying dead next door, and these two were thinking it was Hagrid’s fault. “I trust all of you with my life. I know that no-one, no-one would have betrayed me!”

“Thats - “ Lupin began softly, but then the kitchen door opened again and Arthur and Fred Weasley came in. Harry looked away, he didn’t want to watch as their world was destroyed.

Arthur smiled half-heartedly around the room. Mrs Weasleys cries had turned to muted sobs and become so soft that Harry doubted Mr Weasley could hear them.

“Alright, chaps? Is anyone late so far?” Mr Weasley asked brightly. “Why are you all looking so sad? What’s wrong? Where’s Molly?”

“Arthur,” Shacklebolt said, standing up, “I’m very sorry. It’s George. He didn’t make it. Remus managed to bring him home.”

Mr Weasley stared at him, the smile still frozen on his face as if he thought Shacklebolt was just joking and at any second he was going to reveal the punchline. His smile dropped slowly and without another word he ran past them all to the parlour. They all heard Mrs Weasley’s renewed wails. 

Fred had paled and was looking towards the parlour in horror, shaking his head minutely.

* * *

George’s funeral was held at the Burrow. He was buried in the woods behind the house. Ron had barely spoken a word since he’d learned about his brother’s death, but he told Harry that George had loved to play in those woods when they were children and it was a good spot for him. 

Mad Eye hadn’t survived the battle either, but there was no body left to bury. Lupin and Shacklebolt had searched for it, but no trace of the battle scarred ex-Auror remained. 

Harry felt like he was intruding in the Weasley’s grief but Mr Weasley had insisted that he stay. For the first three days after he arrived the Burrow was deathly silent. Mrs Weasley had shut herself in her bedroom and rarely ventured out, although Harry could sometimes hear her cries of grief in the middle of the night. Hermione and he tried to make themselves useful by cooking, although neither of them had much experience with Kitchen Magic.

“Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said quietly from her seat on Ron’s bed. Ron had gone for a walk, something which scared Harry as he’d never known his friend to go for solitary walks before. “Mrs Weasley says she wants the wedding to go ahead. That _George_ ,” she whispered the name carefully, worried about offending anyone by saying it too loudly, “Would have wanted it.”

“What do Fleur and Bill think?” 

“I think they’re alright with it,” Hermione looked down at her hands, “Grief’s funny like that, isn’t it? It makes people do things they wouldn’t dream of doing normally. Ron kissed me last night.” She peeked up through her hair to see Harry’s reaction.

“Oh,” Harry said blankly, slowly understanding why his friend looked so worried. “ _Oh!_ So, you’re wondering if he really means it, or if it’s the grief?”

Hermione stood up and went to stand by the window, looking out into the bright summer sky and the woods where George was buried. 

“Do you,” Harry began when she didn’t answer him, “Do you think it matters? I mean, he’s liked you for ages, so does it matter what the reason for him finally doing something about it is? I mean, look at Tonks and Lupin. If it hadn’t been for Dumbledore’s death they probably wouldn’t have got together.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I suppose it’s just being here. Everyone’s so sad, I mean of course they are, but everyone’s pretending that everythings going to be alright. That we can just kiss and have a wedding and that life goes on,” she spun round and pointed her finger at him. “But it doesn’t! Not for all of us!”

“Not until Voldemort’s been defeated,” Harry agreed, “Do you think we should leave now? Just, just start the search for Horcruxes tonight?”

“No, no, Ron wants to stay for the wedding and he’d murder us if we left without him.” 

Harry agreed with her, although he was desperate to get away from the Burrow.

Mrs Weasley threw herself into wedding preparations, a tight smile on her face that could shatter at anytime. Twice Harry found her standing in the middle of the stairs, not moving at all, but silent tears streaming down her face. Both times she’d smiled at him and given him another chore to do, but the sight of her tears made him sick. Her son would still be alive if it weren’t for him and he didn’t understand how she could bear to look at him, let alone want him to stay under her roof. 

Fleur’s parents arrived at the Burrow. They seemed so genuinely happy that it made the whole house feel better and seemed to break the mourning spell that had settled over everyone. The days passed rapidly and Harry understood why Mrs Weasley was putting so much effort into cleaning the whole place. When he kept his hands busy he didn’t have the time to think about anything else. It was only when he lay in bed at night that thoughts of Snape would intrude. The wedding, and Harry’s birthday, drew closer. On the eve of his birthday he finally ran into Ginny without anyone else being around.

She was waiting for him when he came out of the bathroom after his evening shower. His hair was still dripping wet and he was wearing a pair of pyjamas borrowed from Ron. The trouser legs were rolled up so that he didn’t trip over them, but he was used to Dudley’s casts off so he didn’t really care. 

Harry hadn’t been alone with Ginny since he’d told her that it was over between them. He tried to walk past her, but she shuffled to the side so that he couldn’t squeeze passed her. Her dressing gown fell open, revealing a demure nightie.

“Harry,” she said softly, “I wanted to wish you Happy Birthday for tomorrow.”

“Erm, thanks,” Harry stammered. There was something predatory in Ginny’s gaze that made him uncomfortable. 

“I miss you, you know. I still think of you.”

“Ginny - “

“Hush, it’s alright, you don’t have to say anything. I know I didn’t react well when you dumped me. I am sorry, it’s just, it was a shock. One minute we were kissing, and I thought you must really like me, and then you said it was over.”

Harry straightened his back. He had treated Ginny horribly and he deserved this.

“But, maybe we can be friends, and maybe, if you ever change your mind, you’ll think of me?”

He looked at her pretty face. The air between them smelled slightly of his shampoo, but there was no alpha scent. Telling her he was gay had seemed like the easiest solution, but the truth was that, even though he could see that she was objectively pretty, he wasn’t attracted to her.

“I was wrong to treat you how I did, Ginny. And I hope you can forgive me one day. But, I can’t,” he took a deep breath. “I can’t be with you. Not now, not ever, but I’d love it if we could be friends.”

Ginny hitched a brittle smile onto her face and nodded slowly. She slid her dressing gown off and shivered slightly in the cold of the hallway.

“Good, I’m glad,” Ginny said, smiling at him expectantly. Her nipples were hardening in the cool air and Harry could see their outline through the thin material of her nightdress. He blushed and looked away, embarrassed for her. “Charlie arrived while you were in the shower. You haven’t met him before, have you?”

Harry shook his head unthinkingly, his eyes glued to Ginny’s face.

“He couldn’t make it for the funeral,” Ginny continued. Harry thought she was waiting for him to do something, or say something but he wasn’t sure what. Surely she didn’t expect him to kiss her, not after he’d told her he preferred wizards. He’d only really said it because it was the first and simplest excuse that came to mind, he couldn’t very well explain to her about alphas and omegas.

“Well, I’ll go and say hello, he’s in the kitchen?”

Ginny nodded forlornly and gazed after him as he made his way down the stairs. He stepped into the kitchen and saw a ginger haired man sitting by himself. He had actually met Charlie before, but it had been before he’d become an omega.

Charlie’s head snapped up and Harry saw the man’s nostrils flare, just as he was hit with a strange scent. It was strong, but slightly musty, like leather left out in the rain. Charlie was an alpha and, by the expression on his face, he must think Harry was one too. 

“Hey, Harry,” Charlie said with a crooked grin, his earring glinting as he cocked his head to regard Harry. There was nothing on the kitchen table but an empty glass and a bottle of Firewhiskey. “Come and have a drink with me.”

Harry sat down and Charlie Summoned a second glass and then leaned over to fill it with Firewhiskey for Harry.

“I didn’t know you were one of us,” Charlie said, raising his glass to Harry conspiratorially.

“I, er, presented late,” Harry said, remembering the phrase that others had used in front of him. Charlie made a sympathetic noise and downed his drink in one.

“That is a fucking travesty,” Charlie refilled his glass, offering the bottle to Harry, who shook his head quickly. “I don’t know how you can stand it. Being here, surrounded by people. I just want to get back to my own territory, and then I tell myself, no, I’m not an animal. I may work with dragons but I am actually human and I refuse to be controlled by my hormones. But then I see Dad at the head of the table and I have this urge to challenge him.” He laughed bitterly and took a swig of firewhiskey. “Mum told me you were going out with Ginny.”

He glared at Harry accusingly and Harry had the strangest urge to flinch away from Charlie’s disapproval. Harry shrugged and shrunk into his seat. 

“Not anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said in an unapologetic tone, “I know, believe me I know, it’s tough. But, for people like you and me...We’ll always be alone, Harry.”

Charlie downed his Firewhiskey and reached for the bottle again. He glanced pointedly at Harry’s untouched glass of Firewhiskey and Harry took a tentative sip. It burned in his mouth and, as he swallowed, it felt like there was fire burning its way along his throat. Harry spluttered, trying to swallow and breathe at the same time. Charlie twisted his lips in a way that should have resembled a smile, but instead looked more like a grimace. “I shouldn’t be so maudlin. It’s just George…. And the wedding, you know. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for Bill. For all my brothers really, that they aren’t cursed like this. That they can just like someone, girl or boy, and that’s it. They can be happy together.”

Harry took another sip of his Firewhisky. Charlie downed another glass and reached for the bottle a third time. For as much as he was drinking, he seemed to be remarkably coordinated. This should be Harry’s chance to ask all about alphas. To find out all the information that Snape and Dumbledore had hidden from him. At the same time, he would have to phrase his question carefully, he didn’t want Charlie to find out that he was an omega. Perhaps, if Charlie wasn’t drinking and sounding so upset, he would have told him the truth; but, as it was, he felt slightly scared of the man. Harry had always felt so safe in the Burrow and it was disconcerting to have to be careful dealing with a Weasley. It reminded him uncomfortably of being back in Privet Drive and having to be constantly wary of the Dursleys. 

“Don’t you think you could be happy with a beta?” Harry asked quietly.

Charlie laughed bitterly. 

“No,” he swirled his drink in the glass and gave Harry an appraising stare. “But I suppose that’s something you’ll just have to find out for yourself. Just, just not with my sister. If you like her then leave her alone. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

Charlie hung his head and closed his eyes, almost as if he was praying. “I thought I was in love once, no, I was in love.” Harry froze, embarrassed to see Charlie so exposed. “He..He was a beta, of course. And he knew that I was an alpha, but he said it didn’t matter, that we’d work through everything. But, oh Merlin, you know what it’s like. Physically, well, magic makes everything easier, doesn’t it? I wanted him so much, I needed to, to mark him and know where he was _all the time_ , but he said that didn’t matter, that he didn’t mind if I was a bit possessive. And then, one evening, one of his dragons was ill and he was late home. I couldn’t help myself. Maybe if I could have scented him properly it would have been different, but betas can’t take our scent. Or, maybe, if he’d known how to… But I couldn’t stop that, that urge. I attacked him. I nearly killed him.” Charlie’s voice broke and he buried his head in his hands. Harry watched in horror, not sure what to say or do. Charlie snapped his head up and looked Harry in the eye. “I thought that I had so much self-control, all those stories about possessive alphas not being able to fit into normal, polite society. I thought I could prove them all wrong, but I couldn’t. The rumours are true, and I nearly killed the man I loved proving it. Don’t do that to Ginny, Harry. Don’t.”

Charlie’s eyes were wet and he scrubbed them with his sleeve before reaching for the Firewhiskey bottle. 

“Malfoy’s an alpha.” Harry said, changing the subject. 

“Ha! I bet he is! Malfoys can only ever produce alphas. Lucius Malfoy is an alpha, Abraxas Malfoy was an alpha.” 

“So, so there you go. Alpha’s can get married and have children with betas. You don’t have to do this to yourself.” 

“Oh, Harry, no. Narcissa Black was married off to tie one pureblood family to another. It wasn’t exactly love, and I doubt she’s happy. No-one ever sees her. She’s pretty much Malfoy’s prisoner. And as for children,” Charlie scoffed. “There is way, I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s Dark. So Dark that there was a Ministry investigation when Draco was born. Of course, Malfoy Galleons cleared all that up, just like there was a scandal when Lucius was born. The Malfoy’s don’t have any choice, if they want to continue their line then they have to resort to Merlin-knows-what evil, and they can’t ever stop. Whatever Dark Arts they’re using, they can only create more alphas, so they just go on, generation after generation, creating more useless alphas. Course, they don’t realise that there’s no point. We’re just a dead branch of humanity, better to just let us die in peace.” Charlie paused, his fingers tracing a knot in the wood of the kitchen table, “But, anyway...For the likes of you and me. Well, there’s no chance of children. No chance of a relationship even, I couldn’t do that again. I couldn’t...Hurt someone like that again. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, Harry. You’re a good kid, you don’t deserve this. But then, no-one does.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t know how much of what Charlie was saying actually applied to him, but it was still a lot to think about and he felt strange. The Firewhiskey had made him feel groggy and Charlie’s alpha scent was distracting. Charlie grunted a good-night to him as Harry left, making his way slowly up the stairs. Ron was already in bed and he made a sleepy, inarticulate noise as Harry closed their bedroom door. 

“Ron?” Harry whispered, “Are you awake?”

“No,” Ron mumbled, “I’ll have breakfast later, when George gets home.”

Harry got into bed, still thinking about everything that Charlie had told him. He felt so badly for Charlie but, at the same time, it sounded like he was at the mercy of his alpha instincts and could be violent. Snape would have disapproved of him. Harry gasped to himself. Back in Dumbledore’s office, before they’d bonded, Snape had suggested that Harry should be bonded to a Weasley instead of him, but both Snape and Dumbledore had disapproved of the choice. They’d been talking about Charlie! Had they disapproved of him because he’d attacked his beta mate?

Snape had never actually laid a hand on him. Snape was, undoubtedly, a traitor and the worst kind of human scum, but he didn’t act on his alpha instincts like Charlie did. Which was a puzzle, because it seemed obvious that Charlie was a better person than Snape, but he’d beaten his mate whereas Snape hadn’t. And he’d given Snape way more provocation than just being late. He’d actually kissed someone else in front of him. Harry frowned to himself. He couldn’t really compare Charlie and Snape when he didn’t know enough about Charlie and his relationship with his beta.

There was another thing puzzling him. It would have been easy for Snape, by himself, to just grab Harry by the back of his neck as he left Privet Drive and incapacitate him. Snape could have had him in chains in front of Voldemort in seconds. But he hadn’t. Why hadn’t he? It just didn’t make any sense. During the flight from Privet Drive Snape had been right behind Harry, and he must have recognised Harry’s scent, yet he hadn’t given Harry up to Voldemort. In fact, he’d lied and told Stan Shunpike that he wasn’t the real Harry Potter.

Perhaps, despite everything, Snape was still feeling the effects of the bond. The bond wasn’t effecting Harry’s emotions at all, but maybe it only affected the alpha in the bond. Or maybe Snape just didn’t want to be responsible for his bondmate’s death because he was too much of a coward. Harry rolled his head so that he could wipe his lips on his pillow. He could remember what Snape’s lips felt like against his and the very thought made his skin crawl.

The next day was Harry’s birthday, but he didn’t really want to celebrate. That morning, he and Hermione sat on Ron’s bed, watching as Ron slowly took down all his Quidditch posters.

“See, now I can actually see my wallpaper!” Ron said, as he rolled up a signed poster of a waving Quidditch player who was dressed in bright orange. Hermione gave Harry a strange look and jerked her head towards Ron meaningfully. Harry wasn’t sure what she was trying to communicate to him. 

“Yeah,” Harry said unconvincingly.

“It was time for a change, mate. I mean, there’s a time for Quidditch and all…” Ron trailed off as he put the rolled up poster away in a cupboard next to the window.

“It’s good that Charlie’s here,” Hermione said brightly, flashing Harry an annoyed glare. He knew he should be saying more to Ron. His friend had lost his brother and Harry knew he was grieving, but he didn’t know what to say to make anything better. He was just glad that Ron didn’t blame him for George’s death. ”He doesn’t seem very enthused about the wedding. Doesn’t he like Fleur?”

Ron turned away from the window in surprise.

“I don’t think he really knows her. He had an accident when he was young and now he can’t have kids,” Ron shrugged, “He thinks he’s going to be single forever and weddings always get to Charlie. I don’t think he wanted to come to be honest, but Mum would have disowned him if he’d stayed in Romania. He’d already missed the funeral.”

At the mention of George’s funeral, Hermione took on an expression of overbearing sympathy, but Harry’s curiosity was piqued. He was sure that Ron was lying about Charlie. He was convinced that Ron knew that Charlie was an alpha. Just then Mrs Weasley’s heavy tread could be heard as she came up the stairs.

“Quick! It’s your Mum. I’m supposed to be helping Fred in the attic!” Hermione said, rushing to the door and going out into the hallway. Harry didn’t move, he was grateful for all of Mrs Weasley’s kindness but her recent behaviour was really frustrating. She just couldn’t accept that he had a mission from Dumbledore and that he needed to do it without the Order’s help. No matter how much he understood that she was grieving, he couldn’t tell her about the Horcruxes. Hermione closed the bedroom door behind her, leaving Harry alone with Ron. 

“Oh, there you are, Hermione dear! Ginny’s checking the roses for Fanged Ladybirds, would you mind helping her?” Mrs Weasley’s voice was loud enough that it carried into Ron’s bedroom even through the closed door.

“Of course, Mrs Weasley,” Hermione voice could only just be heard. 

“Thank you, dear. I do appreciate your help, I really do,” Mrs Weasley’s voice got quieter as the two women descended the stairs. Ron turned away and started taking down another poster. Harry watched his friend, he wanted to say something to cheer him up but he didn’t know what to say. 

“You know,” Ron began, pulling another poster from the wall. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things recently. I really overreacted when you broke up with Ginny. But, you know,” he paused and turned to Harry, the poster hanging limply from his hands, “I _hope_ you know, that you’re like a brother to me.”

Harry stared at him. He’d never had a brother, so he didn’t know what it felt like but he imagined it would feel a lot like how he felt about Ron. He nodded slowly. 

“Yeah, I mean, I feel the same.”

Ron gave him a small smile and coughed awkwardly and unnecessarily.

“Ginny said something to me the other day,” Ron coughed again before biting his lip thoughtfully and bending the corner of the poster he’d just taken down. “About you liking wizards.”

“Oh,” Harry’s first instinct was to deny it. Somehow his tongue felt too large in his mouth and he couldn’t quite get the words out. He wasn’t gay. Not really; he’d kissed Snape because he was an alpha, not because he was a man. But he couldn’t tell Ron about that and he wasn’t sure it even mattered any more. He couldn’t think of anyone that he actually found attractive nowadays. When he tried to think about it, all he could conjure up were thoughts of Snape’s alpha scent and the shine of his dark hair. Still being attracted to Snape was repulsive and it would be impossible to explain to Ron.

“Did you know you liked blokes before you started going out with Ginny?” Ron’s voice was calm but Harry knew his friend could get angry very quickly.

“No, I…” Harry paused, he had kissed Snape just before he’d started going out with Ginny. “I was so confused, Ron.”

Ron scowled angrily and Harry was sure his friend was going to erupt and yell at him.

“She’s liked you for ages!” Ron began, but then stopped himself. “Hermione told me once that Muggles don’t like gay wizards, gay people.” Ron took a deep breath and continued. “What you did was wrong. You should never have gone out with my sister if you were even thinking about all of this! But,” Ron blinked quickly as if he were holding back tears. “But life’s too short to be angry all the time. You’re my best friend.”

Ron sat down on the bed next to him, still holding on to the poster with one hand. 

“I probably would have punched you if you’d told me all this before, but there’s no point, is there? I’ve just lost one brother, I can’t lose my best friend too.” Ron’s knee jiggled up and down nervously.

“Don’t you mind? If I don’t like witches?” Ron gave him a confused look and then slung an arm round his shoulder. 

“Course not. Muggles must be even stranger than I thought if they care about that.”


	11. Chapter 11

Harry stepped outside and saw the birthday feast that the Weasleys had prepared for him. The table was laden with food and it looked delicious! He grinned appreciatively, happier than he could remember being in weeks. 

Fred, who didn’t always make an appearance at mealtimes, was sitting at the table. He had a sour look on his face and he was wearing yesterday’s clothes but Harry was happy to see him. No-one had said a single accusatory word to blame Harry for George’s death, but Harry didn’t think it was possible for them not to feel that way, even just a little. Fred’s presence at his birthday meal was a balm to his conscience. 

Charlie growled softly, startling Harry from his thoughts. It was such an alpha noise, the sort of sound that he expected to hear from Snape, that it felt odd to hear it coming from anyone else. He ducked his head to the side automatically, only stopping when he realised that Charlie wasn’t even looking at him. Charlie was growling at Mr Weasley, who was sitting at the head of the table and looking uncomfortably flustered.

“Now, there you are, Harry dear,” Mrs Weasley said with a tired smile as she bustled out of the kitchen carry a large bowl of mashed potatoes. “I tried to make all your favourites. Sit down and tuck in!”

Harry glanced awkwardly around. Charlie’s growl had killed his happiness and made him think about things that he’d wanted to take a break from. He sat down, wedging himself between Hermione and Ron. Despite Hermione’s confession that the two of them had kissed neither Ron nor Hermione acted any differently around each other. They hadn’t told Harry that they were going out and Harry didn’t feel like he was intruding as he slid into place between them. 

“Happy Birthday, Harry,” Fred said, his voice lacking that cheerful tone that it had always had in the past. Next to Fred the Delacours were beaming at him.

“ ‘Appy Birthday!” Mrs Delacour smiled. Further down the table, Mr Weasley and Charlie swapped places so that Charlie was sitting at the head of the table. Everyone was so distracted by wishing Harry a happy birthday that no-one seemed to notice or care. 

“Erm, thanks!” Harry tried to smile back but, between Charlie’s growl and Fred’s grief, it didn’t feel like a happy birthday at all. Ron elbowed him sharply. 

“Pass the steak and kidney pudding and cheer up! Mum spent hours cooking this lot!”

Harry passed Ron what he wanted, noticing as he did that Mrs Weasley was keeping a close eye on him, her hands clenched nervously in front of her and her shoulders tense. Harry smiled at her and put a portion of steak and kidney pudding on his own plate. Mrs Weasley relaxed slightly and she Summoned something from the house, which she promptly gave to Mr Weasley. 

“Settle down, everyone, settle down,” Mr Weasley began, raising his voice until everyone was quiet and had turned to look at him. “Our Harry is coming of age today, which is a momentous occasion for any young wizard. Molly and I wanted to give you something, something that means a lot to us.” He stopped and Mrs Weasley continued for him. 

“When a wizard comes of age his parents usually give him a watch. I thought, seeing as...We’d like you to have this watch, from us, dear.”

Mr Weasley gave a small parcel to the person sitting next to him and it was passed along the table until it got to Harry. He opened it gingerly. Inside the velvet lined box was a watch. There were a few scratches on the glass, but it looked almost brand new. Harry swallowed heavily. This must have cost the Weasleys a fortune. 

“New watches can be rather expensive, and I always felt it’s a nice tradition to keep watches in the family.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, still looking at the beautiful watch. It had belonged to a Weasley before him, but it was still fairly new. He stilled, suddenly realising who this watch had belonged to. It must have been George’s watch. Harry looked up in shock, his eyes catching Fred’s gaze without even meaning to. 

“He would have wanted you to have it,” Fred said in a monotone. 

“I,” Harry hadn’t even touched the watch yet. George would have been wearing this when he’d died. Mrs Weasley would have unclasped this watch from George’s cold, dead wrist to give to him. He didn’t want to touch it. 

“They asked me if it was alright, before they gave it you.” Fred said, nodding to himself, “George, he would have liked this.”

“Here,” Ron said, plucking the watch from the box and putting it on Harry’s wrist. It felt cold against his skin. “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s beautiful. I don’t deserve this,” Harry said, gulping. Hermione looked just as shocked as he felt, her mouth was hanging open. 

“I’m so glad,” Mrs Weasley clasped her hands together. “I couldn’t bear the thought of it just being forgotten about, just gathering dust in some drawer.”

Fred nodded sharply. The silence was unbearable as everyone looked at Harry and his new watch. Then someone coughed and then someone else scrapped their fork against their plate and slowly the sound of people serving themselves food got louder. Harry turned his wrist around, slowly examining the watch from different angles. It had begun to heat up from contact with his skin, but it still felt heavy.

Hermione put some mashed potatoes on his plate and he remembered that he was supposed to be eating. Mrs Weasley’s food usually tasted delicious, but just now everything tasted dull. Everytime he lifted his fork he saw a dead man’s watch on his wrist, but no-one seemed to notice that he was barely eating. After they’d finished eating there was birthday cake and more presents to be unwrapped. Hermione had got him a new Sneakoscope, Bill and Fleur gave him an enchanted razor and the Delacours gave him a big box of French chocolates. 

“Sorry, mate,” Ron said as they made their way up to Ron’s bedroom after dinner. Harry was carrying most of his presents, whilst Ron had the box of chocolates that the Delacours had given him. “I was going to give you this brilliant book on how to pick up witches, but I suppose you don’t need it anymore, eh?” he grinned mischievously and stole one of Harry’s chocolates, plopping it into his mouth with a delighted groan. Harry snorted in amusement. It was good to see Ron happy again. He pushed the bedroom door open with his foot. The room looked gloomy without Ron’s Quidditch posters decorating the wall and he realised that Ron had made a reference to him preferring wizards and he hadn’t even cared. 

Harry changed into his pajamas and got into his bed without a trace of self-consciousness. He was woken up only a few hours later, by Mrs Weasley banging on their door just after dawn. 

“Breakfast’s ready! Time to get up! Hurry up, boys, or it’ll get cold!” she called through the door.

“Too early,” Ron groaned, turning over in bed. Harry got up and pulled a jumper on over his pajamas. 

“Way too early,” Harry agreed with a yawn. “But your mum will be livid if we don’t hurry up.”

Ron groaned and threw off his bedsheets. 

“Alright,” Ron yawned, rubbing at both of his eyes to wake up. His pajamas covered almost all of his body, but Harry could clearly see a bulge in the crotch of Ron’s pajamas bottoms. His friend had an erection and he didn’t seem to care if Harry knew. 

“I’ll, er, see you down there,” Harry said, trying to keep his voice level. He’d thought that Ron didn’t care that he didn’t like witches, that he wouldn’t treat him any differently. But he was. He must be, because in all the years he’d been sleeping next to Ron he’d never seen him hard before. Ron grunted distractedly and, as Harry closed the bedroom door behind him, he was sure he heard Ron snore as he fell back asleep.

Perhaps it was just a coincidence, but the idea stuck in Harry’s head for hours. Mrs Weasley was arranging the final preparations for the wedding and giving out jobs for everyone to do. Harry found the time to sneak away and visit Hedwig, who had taken up residence in the small hutch that Weasleys used as an owlery. She nibbled at his fingers gently. Harry could tell that she liked it here and he was glad. Too many people knew what Harry’s owl looked like, and she wouldn’t be able to come with him on his hunt for the Horcruxes. It was going to be a wrench to say goodbye to her, and Harry hoped that Hedwig would eventually forgive him for leaving her behind. 

“Remember, girl, you’re going to stay with the Weasleys for awhile and you can’t come and find me, but I’ll be back for you as soon as it’s safe.”

Hedwig bit him and he yelped in pain.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. I’ll come and say goodbye properly before I leave,” Harry promised, not touching Hedwig again as he turned to leave.

Guests started to arrive soon after lunch and Harry, who didn’t want anyone to know where he was staying, Polyjuiced into a distant relative of the Weasleys so that his presence wouldn’t arouse any suspicion. 

The ceremony itself was beautiful. Harry had never been to a wedding before and he stared longingly at the bride and groom. He wanted that closeness to someone more desperately than he could ever remember wanting anything. He’d had close friends since he’d started Hogwarts, but the way that Fleur and Bill looked at each other was amazing and Harry felt the strongest burst of envy. His eyes prickled and he wiped them with the back of his hand. 

Hermione was sitting to him and she handed him a handkerchief. Harry took it silently, hoping that his friend wouldn’t say anything about why he needed it.

“It’s traditional to cry at weddings, you know?” Hermione whispered. Harry nodded in embarrassment, without looking at her. Just then the ceremony was over and the furniture began to magically rearrange itself. Tables appeared and the guests clapped loudly as everyone stood to find their places for the reception. In the ensuing din, Hermione continued to talk to him in hushed tones.

“I wanted to make sure you were alright, about the watch. I mean, I know it’s a Wizarding tradition and all, but you looked pretty surprised when they gave it to you.”

“I...” Harry held his wrist up and looked at the watch again, “I know they did it out of kindness, Hermione. I just really wasn’t expecting it.”

“Hmm, nor was I,” Hermione pursed her lips, “Did you see that Viktor Krum is here?” Her voice raised oddly in question. Harry looked round and saw Krum on the other side of the marquee. The older boy was standing very upright and he’d grown a moustache which made him look older than he was. 

“Oh, yeah,” Harry said, not particularly interested. Some of the other guests were throwing odd glances at Viktor and giggling. It must be nice for Krum, Harry thought wistfully, to be famous for a skill, rather than being famous for something that he couldn’t even remember. Hours later, when the reception was in full swing, he got a chance to talk to an angry looking Viktor. As soon as he sat at the same table as Viktor the boy gestured towards a wildly dancing Xenophilius Lovegood.

“Do you see this?” Viktor raged. 

“Er, what?” Harry asked in confusion. The eccentric father of Luna Lovegood was dressed rather strangely, but it was nothing that Harry didn’t expect from the editor of the Quibbler. 

“Grindelvald! That man is vearing his symbol, I recognised it at vunce: Grindelvald carved it into a vall at Durmstrang ven he vos a pupil there. Some idiots copied it onto their books and clothes thinking to shock, make themselves impressive - until those of us who had lost family members to Grindelvald taught them better."

“I don’t think that Mr Lovegood can know what it means then, he’s a little...odd, but he’d never wear Grindelwald’s symbol,” Harry explained. Mr Lovegood had published his version of events surrounding Voldemort’s return. He would never have done that if he were a Dark Wizard. Behind Mr Lovegood was Hermione and she waved at them from across the dancefloor. Harry waved back but Viktor let out a loud sigh. 

“Do you know Herm-own-ninny?” Viktor asked, sparing Harry a quick glance. 

“Yeah, a bit. I’m friends with her boyfriend,” Harry said. He wasn’t sure that Ron and Hermione were actually going out, but they had kissed. “Well, I’m not sure if they’re actually going out...”

Viktor grunted sourly.

"Vot is the point of being an international Quidditch player if all the good-looking girls are taken? Vot about her?” Viktor tilted his head in Ginny’s direction. Harry blinked in surprise and then smiled. He couldn’t be the boy that Ginny wanted, but maybe Viktor Krum could be. 

“That’s Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister, she’s single.”

Viktor ran a finger along his moustache, making sure it was in place. 

“Perhaps, she vould like some company,” Viktor stood, smoothing down jacket and squaring his shoulders. Harry watched him go with a smile. He wanted Ginny to be happy, and he watched with pleasure as Viktor introduced himself to Ginny, who blushed prettily. The two stood chatting for a few long minutes before Viktor offered her his hand and they headed for the dancefloor. Harry felt nothing but relief to see Ginny paying attention to a boy other than him. 

Harry was interrupted from his thoughts by the loud voice of Aunt Muriel. He went to go and investigate and caught the end of an argument between her and an old man that Harry didn’t recognise. There were tears in the old man’s eyes as he looked up at Harry while Aunt Muriel sneered cruelly. Harry didn’t have a clue what the argument had been about but the older man was obviously very affected. He grasped on to Harry’s arm, pulling Harry into the seat next to him.

“Albus Dumbledore was a great man,” the old man wheezed, “Don’t believe any of the lies that the Daily Prophet print!”

Aunt Muriel snorted loudly, whilst Harry stared in open-mouthed confusion. What could the newspaper have possibly said about Dumbledore? Harry couldn’t imagine. There had been so little time over the summer that he’d barely had a chance to look at the Daily Prophet. At the Dursleys he’d spent all his time pouring over the Prince’s book. Since coming to the Burrow, George’s death and then all the focus on the wedding had meant that any spare time he had was spent planning how to hunt Horcruxes. On those rare occasions that he’d glanced at the newspaper he hadn’t seen anything malicious about Dumbledore. 

“Sir,” Harry began, but just then there was a scream from middle of the dancefloor. A large Patronus appeared and, in Kingsley Shacklebolt’s steady voice, announced that the Ministry had fallen. Someone else screamed and Harry leapt from his seat as he saw a dark, hooded figure Apparate into the wedding reception. There were a series of loud bangs as more Death Eaters Apparated in and frightened wedding guests Apparated away.

“Here!” Hermione yelled, racing towards him and dragging a pale looking Ron behind her. Harry ran towards her, stretching out his hand. The second they touched he felt the pull of Side-Along Apparition.

They landed in London. It jarred to leave the Burrow just as it was under attack, but Harry knew there was no choice. Death Eaters were able to find them almost instantly, however they managed to evade capture and make it safely to Grimmauld Place just as it started to get dark. As soon as Harry stepped into the house he knew that Snape had been there, despite the apparition of Dumbledore that had been conjured to keep him out. Harry followed his nose, tracking Snape’s scent up the stairs as Hermione and Ron stayed below to get one of the rooms ready for them all to use as a bedroom. 

He pushed open the door to Sirius’ room, where Snape’s scent was strongest. The room had been ransacked. Drawers pulled out and the floor strewn with papers and clothes. Snape had been here and he had done this. Harry could smell the faint trace of alpha scent in the air. It was slightly stale now, but still recognisable. He got down and moved the papers around at random. Most of them were old newspapers, but he thought that Snape had done this too. He had got down on his knees and sorted through these papers just like Harry was doing now. 

Harry pushed the papers around, stirring up more of Snape’s scent. There was nothing of interest here, certainly nothing that had justified the amount of time that Snape had spent in here. He sniffed one last time. He hated how much Snape’s scent, even now, even this mausoleum of a house, comforted him. He slipped out of Sirius’ room, jumping slightly when he saw Ron standing uncertainly in the hallway. 

“Hey! There you are,” Ron gave him an apologetic grin, “You’ve been ages and Hermione was starting to worry about you. You alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathed, catching another lungful of Snape’s scent. On the landing below them, Hermione was staring at a door. Harry and Ron descended the stairs slowly, confused at her strange behaviour until she lifted a shaking finger to point at a small plaque that had been set into the wooden door. _Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black._

“I think,” Hermione said with a slight quiver in her voice, “We’ve found who R.A.B is, we’ve found who took the locket!”

Ron let a cheerful whoop of joy and opened the bedroom door. 

“Wait,” Harry said, his stomach suddenly dropping in horror as he thought of something. “We should wait till morning. Explore it properly in the light.”

“I agree,” Hermione said firmly. “Everything will be the same in the morning, and that way we can get some rest first.”

“But,” Ron spluttered, “But...Oh, alright.”

Ron was so painfully eager to get going on the hunt for Horcruxes, to make the fact that he’d abandoned the Burrow, just as it was being invaded by Death Eaters, worthwhile. Harry sympathised, but he suddenly felt sick as he remembered a conversation that he’d once had with Snape. 

_”You don’t, you don’t know why I had to drink that potion, do you?” Harry had asked Snape as they sat holding hands in Snape’s office._  
_Snape had gone still, as if he had cared that his answer was about to upset Harry._  
_“I do,” Snape’s dark voice had said._

Harry turned away, walking down the stairs and gripping the bannister so he didn’t fall. Snape had said that he knew why Harry had to be turned into an omega. At the time Harry had assumed that he’d only meant that he knew about the piece of Tom’s soul inside his scar. But what if Snape had meant more than that? What if he knew about Horcruxes? What if Dumbledore had confided that secret to him? 

Harry stumbled, missing a step and nearly fell. Ron grabbed his arm and held him upright. 

“Merlin, you are tired. I suppose we really should wait until morning to search Black’s bedroom.”

Harry nodded half-heartedly, his thoughts still running wild. What if Snape had already warned Voldemort that Harry was looking for his Horcruxes? That thought was too horrible. He’d never be able to find them if Voldemort knew what was going on and started moving them or, even worse, making more. How many times could one man split his soul and still remain a man?

Harry got ready for bed without uttering a word. 

There was a chance that Snape didn’t know about Horcruxes. He might have known that Harry had a bit of Voldemort’s soul, but maybe Dumbledore had only said it was that one piece. That it had been created by accident. Knowing about one stray soul fragment, created as Voldemort attempted to kill a child, was very different from the willful creation of numerous Horcruxes. 

Harry let out a deep breath. He had to believe that Snape had never known about the existence of all the Horcruxes, otherwise they were all already doomed and there was no chance of defeating Voldemort. He blinked, trying to relax, and saw that the others had already turned the light off in the room where they were all going to be sleeping. A bed had been made up for him on the floor in between his two friends and he got in gratefully. 

In the morning their hunt for the locket began in earnest. It didn’t take long before they called Kreature to help them search. They listened in horror as Kreature recounted the tale of Regulus Black and his demise. Hermione cried in pity and Harry gave Kreature the fake locket as a gift. 

Actually finding the real locket took weeks and a lot of time was just spent sitting around and not really accomplishing anything. Harry took comfort from the fact that there was no sign of Hedwig. She had known to stay with the Weasleys, which meant she was safe. As much as Harry missed her, he felt better knowing that she wasn’t in any danger. He just wished that he’d been able to say goodbye to her before he’d left the Burrow. 

Kreature spent ages tracking down Mundungus Fletcher, who told them he’d given the locket to Dolores Umbridge. Their carefully planned mission to break into the Ministry to take the locket back from Umbridge was a success. Harry finally had a Horcrux but, as they fled the Ministry, a Death Eater managed to grab hold of them while they Apparated to Grimmauld Place. Hermione Apparated them away instantly, but it was already too late. The secret location had been revealed, and they could no longer stay there in safety. 

It was fortunate that Hermione always carried her charmed bag with her. Despite its tiny size it was large enough to hold all sorts of useful things, including a Wizarding tent. Ron had been Splinched as they’d escaped the Ministry and, although Hermione did her best to use Healing Spells on him, the wounds remained red and angry for days. 

Finding the locket put Harry in a much better mood. They had finally accomplished something but, more than that, finding the locket was proof that Snape didn’t know about the other Horcruxes. If he had, then he would have told Voldemort what Harry was doing. Death Eaters would have been on the look out for the locket and he was convinced that they would have found it. Umbridge had been wearing it right in front of Death Eaters, which meant that they couldn’t have been searching for it. Harry felt so relieved, even though thinking about this also forced him to think about Snape. Leaving Grimmauld Place meant that he could no longer smell that faint trace of Snape’s scent in the air. He wished that he didn’t miss it so much. 

Although Hermione had brought everything they needed for shelter, she had not brought any food. It become apparent very quickly that they were going to have a problem procuring their own food. They couldn’t magic any and they couldn’t venture into Muggle towns to buy food, for fear that they would be spotted and found by Death Eaters. Instead, they had to forage for food wherever they stayed that particular day. They’d only been camping a few days but the lack of food was making everyone miserable. It seemed to affect Ron most of all, who had never before had to go without the comfort of either his mother’s or Hogwarts house elves’ excellent cooking. The hunger didn’t affect Harry that much, but he found he was always cold in the tent at night. No matter how many blankets he conjured, or however many Heating Charms he used, he always ended up shivering as he tried to get to sleep. 

They took turns wearing the locket, and making sure it was safe. Harry could feel his spirits sinking whenever he put the awful thing on, but it affected Ron most of all. He would get moody and angry whenever he was wearing it. 

The optimism that Harry had felt when they’d first retrieved the locket faded quickly. No matter what spell he used, nothing seemed to affect the Horcrux. Harry had no idea how he was going to destroy it. The other two were just as disappointed as he was, but Hermione tried to cheer him up by asking about his plans for finding the next Horcrux. Harry tried to think of where they should go next, but he couldn’t think of anywhere. He remembered Dumbledore’s theories on what Tom Riddle had considered important, but none of those theories actually pointed to any particular place. Hermione had brought the portrait of Phineas Nigellus with them, carried in her charmed purse. Sometimes in the evenings she would get it out so that there was someone else to talk to. Harry wasn’t particularly interested in talking to the rude painting, but Hermione seemed to take some comfort from it. 

Harry spent more and more time inside the tent, sitting on his bunk, trying to think about where the next Horcrux would be. He’d spend hours arranging and rearranging the pillows and blankets until he could sit comfortably and try to work out where they should go next. Hermione had brought a small library of books with her and she spent most of time pouring over them, desperately looking for anything that would be helpful. Ron spent most of his time sulking, and occasionally foraging for food. His increasing frustration that nothing was happening was obvious and Harry hated it, but there was nothing he could do to calm Ron down. His friend was right to be frustrated. It came to a head one evening as they sat down to supper around the campfire. 

Hermione gave them each a bowl of thin soup and then returned to studying her books by wandlight. 

“Stop going through those books! You’ve read them a million times before!” Ron called out grumpily. He was wearing the locket and it was affecting his mood, but Harry didn’t bother saying anything about it, because it would only offend Ron and make him even more irritable.

Hermione gave an annoyed little grunt and looked round to frown at Ron.. 

“I finally managed to clean up this book; there was mildew on it and I couldn’t read what was underneath before. I was so excited, I thought that it might be something really important, but now I think its just gibberish. Listen: ‘Of the Horcrux, wickedest of all magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction. The purity of the omega is the one thing such befoulments cannot stain.‘“

She looked up at them with annoyed expression, as if the book had personally offended her.

“What’s an omega?” Ron asked with an angry frown. 

“I don’t think it’s anything. I mean, I’ve never heard of _an_ omega, I think it just means omega as in an old-fashioned way of saying the end. The last letter of the Greek alphabet is omega. So you make things pure by ending the Horcrux.”

“So, it’s a dead-end? The book doesn’t have any new information?” Ron let out a dissatisfied grunt. He threw a log into the fire, throwing it with too much force, so that it barrelled through the burning wood, sending embers flying everywhere. 

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed as she and Harry leapt backwards

“No! Hermione, you know this is ridiculous. We don’t have any clue what we’re doing! We don’t know how to find the other Horcruxes and, even if we did, we can’t even destroy the one we have. This is just a waste of time! You said that you thought Harry would know more about where the other Horcruxes were!”

Harry gaped in astonishment and turned to see Hermione staring at Ron with betrayed eyes. She licked her lips slowly. 

“Harry,” she began placatingly, “I never meant it like that.”

“Yes, you did!” Ron interrupted, “And you were right! This is just fucking useless! People are _dying_ and we’re...We’re on the shittest camping trip ever! I’d follow you into battle, I’d risk my life for you, Harry. But this, this is just us hiding whilst everyone we care about gets killed.”

“Ron,” Harry interrupted, part of him was angry that Ron was saying these things, but part of him agreed. George had died protecting Harry, but it wasn’t like Harry was special. Everyone expected him to kill Voldemort, but he had no idea how he could do such a thing. “You know we - “

“No! What I know is that I can’t, I won’t, lose another brother. When you’re ready to face him, then I’ll be by your side. But I’m not staying here any longer. This is pointless. Maybe this time Harry Potter doesn’t save the day. Maybe we should have asked the Order to help, because we’re getting bugger all done by ourselves! Come and find me when you’ve finished hiding.”

“Ron!” Hermione gasped, “Don’t do this. Just, just calm down and we can talk about this properly.”

“Hermione, this isn’t working and we can stay here, pretending that this is achieving anything, or we can back to the Order and actually get something done. Harry, admit it! Admit this is pointless! It’s alright for you, you don’t have a family. But I do, and I left them to be here. I left them as the Burrow was under attack! You don’t understand what that’s like. I have to justify leaving them like that, and this, sitting around all day doing nothing, isn’t enough. If we were actually hunting Horcruxes then that would be one thing, but my family is dying, just to buy you a little more time.”

Harry felt like he’d been punched in the stomach, the breath leaving his lungs in one large, pained gasp. He wished he knew more about where the other Horcruxes were. He’d never wanted anyone to die for him and the overwhelming guilt at Ron’s words was paralysing. He hadn’t meant to mislead his friends, but he knew what Ron was saying was wrong. No matter how impossible it seemed, Harry knew that Voldemort’s Horcruxes had to be destroyed before he could challenge Voldemort directly. 

“If you’re going, leave the locket,” Harry choked out, his voice thin and tinny. Ron pulled the locket over his head and threw it at Harry before Apparating away with a loud bang. 

“No!” Hermione yelled, jumping forward, but Ron had already gone. She looked round at Harry, her eyes already tearing up. There wasn’t much to say. Harry put the locket around his neck.

Hermione sobbed quietly but Harry didn’t know how to comfort her. He turned away and went inside the tent. He could still hear Hermione’s sobs. He lay down on his bed and buried his face in his neatly arrange pile of pillows. Even though Hermione was still with him, he felt incredibly alone and it felt like the world was against him. He knew Ron was wrong, that it just been the anger of the locket affecting him but that didn’t stop tears from forming in his eyes. He missed Ron already, he missed George, he missed Hogwarts. He missed the warmth and familiarity of their dorm room. He missed the smell of Snape’s quarters and his funny citrusy tea. Harry pulled the pillow over his face, trying not to think about Snape. He swallowed round the lump in his throat.

There was a time when remembering Snape and the way he used to touch him would have made him feel sick. But now he was so alone and the memory of Snape’s massages were a comfort. 

Hermione didn’t come into the tent. She kept watch all night, although neither of them slept. There was no sign of Ron returning. The next morning they stayed as long as they felt they safely could before they Apparated to a new location. It would be impossible for Ron to find them now. 

It rained for the next three days. Harry and Hermione didn’t speak more than a few sentences to each other. He was sure that Hermione was crying a lot, her eyes were almost permanently red rimmed, but he never actually saw her tears. Harry sat outside the tent when it was his turn to keep watch, but the rest of the time he spent in his lonely bed, huddled into the nest he’d built for himself and trying to get warm. 

They slowly found a new sort of equilibrium. They still barely spoke. The lack of Ron’s grumblings left a massive hole and neither of them could fill it. Neither of them tried.

They went to a supermarket once, but didn’t dare risk going a second time. They foraged for food after they’d eaten all their supermarket food. When Harry’s stomach began to hurt he was sure that it was just a combination of hunger and trying to survive off food that was practically inedible. 

Hermione did most of the cooking, but it wasn’t her fault that nothing tasted good. Harry sat down next to that evening’s campfire and Hermione handed him a plate of food, but Harry just shook his head and waved it away, clutching a hand to his abdomen. She set her lips into a line, annoyed at Harry’s apparent refusal to eat the food that she had prepared. 

“Thanks for cooking, Hermione. It looks good,” Harry lied, eyeing the stale bread topped with tiny fried fish. He knew that Hermione had struggled to find this food, and he would have eaten it if he could, if only to appease her. “I just don’t feel well.”

“Really?” she asked, immediately worried. The two of them had come to rely on each other so much in the week since Ron had left and Harry didn’t want to distress her any more than he had to.

“My stomach is a little off, that’s all.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, no,” Harry tried to hide his wince as he felt a strange shooting pain in his backside. “Maybe a little.”

Hermione bit her lip and moved the plate of food away from Harry. 

“Would a cup of tea help?”

Harry nodded. The comfort of a nice, warming cup of tea would definitely help. It might not make his stomach feel any better, or stop the the strange, new pain in his bum but it would cheer him up. The camp felt so dreary and quiet without Ron, tea would be a welcome distraction. Then he remembered that there was no milk and no sugar; tea would be would be black and bitter. 

“Actually, don’t worry about it. Do you mind if I go and lie down? I don’t think I could eat anything anyway.”

“Alright,” Hermione said with a frown as she pulled her purse towards her. Opening it up, she began to rummage through the bag that had already provided so many of their provisions. “I didn’t bring any potion’s ingredients, but, maybe, I could try and find something. We could camp in a forest tomorrow, and I’ll get some willow bark. That’s used in pretty much all the main Pain Relieving Potions. What do you think?”

“I’m sure it’s just a stomach ache. It’ll probably get better with a bit of rest.”

Hermione hummed in agreement although she continued to give him a worried frown, her hands frozen inside her purse as she watched him. 

“Really, Hermione. I never get sick, it’s probably just something I ate. I’m just going to have an early night. Will you wake me up in a couple of hours, and I’ll take watch?” Harry asked, standing up slowly and trying to hide his pained hiss as he felt another stabbing jolt in his arse. 

“But, but, we’ve been eating the same things. If it was food poisoning, then I should be sick too. You go to bed and try and sleep all night. Don’t worry about keeping watch, I’ll stay up. You’ll probably feel better in the morning as long as you get enough rest,” Hermione said thoughtfully. 

He didn’t bother to get undressed. He just kicked off his shoes and lay down on his bunk. It was too hot to pull the sheets on top of him. He closed his eyes and tried not think about his stomach, he hadn’t realised how tired he was until he lay down. Sleep claimed him quickly.

He woke with a shudder. His arse hurt, his muscles were clenching tightly and the pain was so great that it had woken him up. Harry panted, struggling to control the pain. When he tried to move, the pain got worse. He held himself still, just waiting; it had to get better soon. Behind him he heard Hermione talking softly to someone. A nasally voice answered her question in a loud, obnoxious voice.

“You took a book of Arithmancy with you on your little trip, but you didn’t think to bring potions ingredients?” the disdainful voice sniffed heavily and Harry realised it was Phineas Nigellus. Hermione must have taken his portrait out of her bag to talk to him during the night. He felt a shiver of guilt; she only ever did that when she was feeling particularly lonely. “Really, I’m surprised you even remembered to take your wand!”

Whatever Hermione said in response was too quiet for Harry to make out any words. She was obviously trying not to wake him, but Phineas clearly had no such concerns. 

“Foolish girl! I do hope you have no intention of ever becoming a Healer, your incompetence would be the death of all your patients. If you want to destroy the boy’s stomach then, by all means, feed him such a concoction. If you would rather your friend regained his health then you should seek _professional_ help.”

Hermione gave him a swift rebuke, but again it was said too softly for Harry to hear exactly what she said. Perhaps, if he strained his ears, he would be able to hear, but the pain in his stomach and arse was taking up most of his attention and he found he couldn’t bring himself to care about Hermione and Phineas’ conversation. Hermione was clever enough not to trust Phineas, or say anything too revealing. 

“Hmm… Perhaps, you should tell me where you are. I might know if there are any Healers near you,” Phineas said slyly and Harry closed his eyes. Once Phineas started fishing for hints about where they were Hermione would quickly get bored of the conversation and shove him back into her purse. He willed himself back to sleep, tuning out the voices and trying not to think about the pain. It took him much longer than before to get back to sleep. 

When he woke, the morning light was coming through the canvas of the tent, bathing the room in a dull light. He could hear the pitter patter of rain hitting the outside of the tent, but he didn’t even try to get up. Harry knew they wouldn’t be able to change locations today; he was in too much pain to stand up. He closed his eyes again, hoping that a bit more sleep would make him feel better. His stomach hurt more than it had before, as did his arse. He wasn’t going to even try getting out of bad. Instead, he clutched at his stomach, the pressure of his hand didn’t alleviate the pain, but it was comforting. The dull ache didn’t get any better as he curled in on himself, but the position felt better, like his body knew what was wrong with him. He was still dressed in yesterday’s clothes and they prickled against his skin. It was uncomfortable, but he didn’t have the energy to try and take them off. He hated this feeling. He knew Hermione was worried and upset and he wished she wasn’t. He’d already brought on her on this camping trip, even though he had no idea where the other Horcruxes where. Ron had left them. There was no food and now, to top it off, he was sick. He let out a small whimper unconsciously. It was a soft sound that sounded alien in his throat. If anyone but Hermione had been around to hear it, he would have been embarrassed to have made a sound that was so unmanly. 

“Harry? Harry?” Hermione called softly from his bedside. “Are you awake? I can’t...I can’t find anything in the books. I’m so sorry, I thought...” Harry could hear her voice choking with tears, but his eyes were screwed firmly shut and he didn’t have the energy to turn round and look at her. “I thought I’d brought everything we needed. I think we’re going to have to get a Healer...I..I can’t help you, there’s nothing I can do!”

He felt her hand on his shoulder as she tried to comfort him, but his skin was so sensitive that it hurt where she touched him. Her hand shook slightly as she sobbed. He shrugged, pushing her hand off. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he just wanted to curl up and concentrate on dealing with the pain. 

“You feel awfully hot, Harry,” Hermione said quietly. A warm, slightly damp hand pressed down on his forehead and Harry squirmed away from it. Her hand must be wet from her tears, Harry realised with a pang of guilt; he hated upsetting his friend like this. Hermione had to be touching his forehead to take his temperature, but he didn’t like the feel of her skin pressed against his. Even though he knew that she was only doing it to help him, he felt an irrational burst of annoyance. That wasn’t what he wanted. He couldn’t quite work out what it was that he did want but knew he didn’t want her to touch him again. He gave an inarticulate grunt and buried his head into his pillow.

“You’ve got a fever. Harry, this is bad. I’m going to...I’m going to go. It’ll be alright, I promise, okay? I’m going to be back soon and, and I’ll bring help. Just, just stay here,” Hermione voice sounded stronger and more determined as she made up her mind, but her voice sounded so far away that Harry couldn’t respond. He shrugged his shoulder to let her know that he had understood what she’d said. 

Distantly, he heard her standing up and undoing the fastenings on the tent door. The pain was doing strange things to his mind, because he almost felt relieved that she was leaving, even thought she was his only source of comfort. He’d got so used to the complete lack of privacy in the tent, and now he would be alone and isolated in the middle of nowhere. His mind felt so jumbled and the pain was getting worse, more overwhelming and he almost felt like crying. He was weak and in pain and nothing made sense. He sniffed loudly, letting tears form behind his eyes. 

Instantly, he felt changed. There was something in the air. Something powerful and good and _familiar._ Just the smell of it was enough to make Harry open his eyes, the pain momentarily forgotten. It was _Snape!_ Snape was here! Harry sat up, even though moments ago, he hadn’t thought he was capable of overcoming the pain in his stomach to move at all, but if Snape had found them then Hermione and he were both in terrible danger. He’d left his wand somewhere last night, but he’d been in too much pain to pay attention to where. He reached under his pillow, his fingers scrambling and tangling in the sheets in his haste. 

Outside there was a dull thud and Harry stopped, torn. What had made that noise? The pain in his stomach was almost entirely gone and Harry felt wide awake. His arse was still cramping painfully, but he had enough nervous energy that he could ignore it. He had to get to his wand. Snape was outside and he was going to attack at any second. Harry threw his pillow to the ground and saw his wand. He snatched it up and turned round just in time to see Snape, his wand aloft and pointed at Harry, as he entered the tent. The canvas door flapped behind Snape as his dark figure was silhouetted against the morning light. Harry couldn’t see Snape’s face clearly, but his head was haloed by the morning mist behind him

“Snape!” Harry hissed. The tent door flapped even wider open behind Snape and Harry could see Hermione’s body on the ground. Snape must have killed her. 

“ _Expelliarmus_ ” Snape silken voice whispered, cutting though the air and Harry felt his wand fly from his hand. At the sound of the man’s voice Harry’s whole body seemed to react. He knew he hated this man, that he wanted him dead, that he shouldn’t have let Snape disarm him, but something about that man’s voice made him feel almost dizzy and Harry had to squash the impulse to lie back down. He forced himself to stay still and not back down; he summoned all his energy so that he could fight Dumbledore’s murderer. 

“Are you going to kill me, Snape? Like you killed Hermione? Like you killed _Dumbledore_?” Harry tried to sneer, but his voice came out high and whiny and completely lacking in contempt; instead, it sounded almost painfully plaintive, as if he were begging Snape for mercy. Snape glared at him with a murderous expression; he looked wilder than Harry had ever seen him. His dark eyes burned and his fist was clenched so tightly around his wand that his knuckles were turning white.

“The two of you were alone,” Snape said. It was a statement rather than a question, but Harry nodded anyway. Snape’s jaw tightened and he took a step towards Harry’s bunk. Instinctively, Harry darted backwards and pulled the bed sheet over him, even though he knew that the layer of cloth was no protection against magic. Snape paused and glared at him again before surprising Harry by lowering his wand.

“Potter! You little fool! Do you seriously believe I am here to harm you?”

Harry almost moaned. Snape’s voice had always been unique, but in the past he’d hated it. It was too low and too bitter, as if it were made only for hurling insults, but now it felt like it was caressing his skin. His arse cramped again, this time Harry felt a trickle of moisture. Harry moved further away from Snape, until his back was pressed against the canvas wall of the tent. 

He wanted to yell at Snape, to scream and rage but he didn’t think he had the strength to.

“This is over, Potter, do you understand me? I have played along, I have been silent, keeping to the shadows whilst you acted the boy hero. But that is finished. I have let you risk your life on this vain-glorious quest, but now you are coming home, where you belong,” and with that Snape stepped forward so that he was looming over Harry’s bed. He knew, he remembered, what it was like to be this close to Snape, but experiencing it again, after all this time and when he was in so much pain, was something quite different. Harry gasped and let the man’s scent embrace him. His muscles seemed to relax and his legs fell open of their own accord. 

“Don’t...Don’t kill me,” Harry breathed out, his voice reedy. Snape was going to finally get his wish and see Harry dead, not because Harry had lost to the Dark Lord, but because he got ill. All Dumbledore’s plans were for nothing just because Harry was too weak to even fight. He was so ashamed. 

“Foolish boy,” Snape muttered, leaning down so close that Harry thought that Snape might be about to kiss him. “Why would I kill you when you belong to me?”

Snape put his hand on Harry’s forehead but, unlike when Hermione had touched him, it didn’t burn him. In fact, Snape felt deliciously cool. It would have been even better if Snape would touch him somewhere else. If he would run his hands all over Harry’s flesh. Harry moaned, half in disgust and half in need. He tried to remember what Snape’s hands looked like; his yellowing skin stained with potions ingredients, long fingers gripping a stirring rod, the feel of his fingertips as they stroked his cheek as they kissed in Snape’s office. Harry moaned again, the feeling in his backside was sharp and he could feel his arse clenching and cramping but he wasn’t sure anymore if the feeling was pain or pleasure, if it was good or bad. 

Snape pushed his hand into Harry’s and, for one wild second, Harry almost giggled at the idea that Snape wanted to hold his hand. Then he felt something in between their palms and it was pulling at him. It was a Portkey! Harry screamed, Snape had come to take him to Voldemort! He had known that Snape was a traitor, so he shouldn’t have been surprised, yet somehow the shock of this second betrayal hurt him more than he could have imagined. His body spun through the air, faster and faster, until he thought he was about to be sick. 

He landed with a thump, his limbs entangled. He was alone. There was no Snape, but there was also a distinct lack of Voldemort, or any other Death Eater. Looking around, he saw that he had landed on an unmade bed in a small room. It didn’t look like a cell, and this was definitely not the sort of place that Voldemort would spend any amount of time. It looked like a Muggle bedroom. There was a wardrobe and greying wallpaper that was peeling slightly. But, most importantly, it smelled of Snape. The sheets were imbued with his scent, so were the pillows and when Harry hobbled to his feet, he realised the room itself smelled like Snape. Harry would have guessed that this was the man’s home, but they weren’t in the dungeons. There was a small, grimy window that looked out over rows and rows of terraced houses. In the distance a factory spewed smoke into the cloudy sky. It was so painfully Muggle that Harry could only imagine that this was Snape’s secret hideout. It was so unimaginably different from everything he knew about the man, that this place couldn’t possibly be his real home.

His stomach and arse still ached, but it was better than it had been earlier. He was able to get up, although he clutched his stomach so tightly that he was almost bent over. Harry made his way to the door, but it was locked. Without his wand, he was defenceless. He wanted to kick at the door, to put his shoulder to it and see if it would budge but he didn’t have the energy. He tried leaning against it heavily, but he felt the buzz of Snape’s magic at work and knew that the door would only open by magical means.

“Bugger,” he whispered to himself and hobbled back to the bed. Lying back down, the sheets felt too warm against him but he didn’t want to throw them off the bed. 

There had to be some other way out of this room. Next to the bed there was a small bedside table with one drawer. Harry pulled the drawer handle, but it wouldn’t move. He yanked it again before realising that it wasn’t locked, it was just wedged shut. He wiggled the drawer experimentally, trying to pull it out when, suddenly, whatever had been holding it shut gave way and the drawer came flying out. Harry barely managed to stop the drawer from falling to the floor. 

Harry put the drawer on the bed and examined what was inside. There were only three items, and none of them looked like they would help him escape. There was a small vial of a golden potion, which Harry was loathe to even unstopper. That could be anything. There was a small, leather bound book that looked old and beaten up, and lastly there was a strange object that Harry couldn’t identify at all. 

He picked it up to examine it more closely; it was a black ball with a large, cylindrical hole running through the middle. It was about the size of a tennis ball, but it felt almost elastic, as if it was designed to be stretched out. Harry couldn’t work out what it could be used for; it wasn’t going to useful helping him escape. Oddly, it smelled very strongly of Snape. Even more strongly than the man’s bed sheets did. 

Harry might hate the man, but he could admit that he liked the way Snape smelled. He put the strange ball down next to him and opened up the book. The front cover was so worn that he couldn’t make out the title at all. Opening it up, he saw that the pages were all faded and turning yellow. The first page didn’t have any writing on it at all, instead there was an old-fashioned, black and white drawing of a naked young man. Harry blushed, he couldn’t imagine anyone as prim as Snape having a porn collection!

Harry hesitated before turning the page. The man in the picture was reclining against a rock next to a waterfall; there was something rather luxurious about the picture, something that Harry thought he should recognise. He stared at it for minute before finally realising. The young man was baring his neck and there was a bitemark there! It looked just like the one on Harry’s neck! Was this young man supposed to be an omega? Harry turned the page hurriedly, suddenly very interested in what this book was. 

_The complete letters of Ganymede Gaunt compiled by Ansgar Narrowit_. Harry sucked his breath. This book was about a member of the Gaunt family! Perhaps there was something about Voldemort in here. Underneath the title, written in Snape’s spidery scrawl there was something else. Harry squinted and leaned forward to get a closer look. As he moved, his arse clenched again, more painfully than ever. He almost dropped the book in surprise, but he could make out what Snape had written. _Or, how the birth of one omega created the idea of blood supremacy!_

Harry’s arse clenched again and he had to tighten his grip on the book again before it fell from his fingers. He knew the book was important, and he had to read it, but he was suddenly so hot. He was burning up and he needed, he wanted, something. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what though. He squirmed and his arse cheeks rubbed together; they felt slippery and damp. 

Harry froze, mortified. His arse hadn’t got wet like this all summer, not since he’d left Hogwarts. He didn’t particularly care if he got Snape’s sheets dirty; trying to think of a way out of this place was paramount 

He flicked through the book, rifling the pages to see if he could find anything important. Snape had scribbled in the margins of the book, but Harry didn’t bother reading what Snape had to say. The sight of it reminded Harry of something, but he was in too much pain to remember. He dismissed the thought and started to read:

_My Dear Sophia,  
I fear that I have grown to hate the autumn, because the changing of the seasons always means that you are, once again leaving me for Hogwarts. I don’t begrudge you; I am so very happy that my beautiful sister will one day be a proper witch. I suppose, by now you have heard my news. Father has arranged for me to bonded. I have yet to meet Mr Ashcroft, but I am told he is a pleasing gentleman, not significantly older than myself. I confess that I am relieved. As strange as it will be to bond with a man I have never met, I do yearn to explore the world beyond the estate. I feel that I have lived my whole life shut up here, and now I shall finally be free._

The book fell from Harry’s hands. This book contained all the information that he'd ever wanted about omegas, but he couldn’t read it; his arse kept on spasming and he was suddenly hot and the language it was written in was old-fashioned and difficult to read quickly. Harry whimpered in frustration and pain. He was burning up with a fever. If he’d been anywhere else than Snape’s bed, he would have taken his clothes off and tried to get some of the cool air to his skin. 

As if the mere thought of the man had summoned him, the door swung open to reveal Snape standing behind it with a small Pensieve in his hand. 

“Snape! Let me go!”

Snape sneered and Harry saw that the man was also carrying Harry’s holly wand. 

“I see you that you didn’t see fit to keep the Arctic Saxifrage I gave you.”

“Like I was going to keep anything that you gave me!” Harry bit out spitefully. He used a burst of energy to sneer at Snape, but then another wave of pain hit him and fell backwards, clutching at his belly.

Snape’s face took on a strangely blank expression at that, as if Harry’s words had hurt him, but he had no idea why.

“Just, please, let me go,” Harry said desperately. He wanted to yell and rage at this man he hated almost as much as Voldemort. But he was ill and defenceless and entirely at Snape’s mercy. 

Naturally, Snape ignored his pleas. 

“You have a choice, Potter. View the Pensieve now or, if you ask me nicely, I will give you the cure to your pain first.”

“You know what’s wrong with me?”

Snape smiled tightly, but he stayed in the doorway, almost as if he was afraid of getting any closer to Harry. The idea was ridiculous, because the man had Harry’s wand and could have easily defended himself against anything that Harry tried to do.

“Oh, yes. Although you might not like it.”

“Tell me what’s wrong with me! Did you do this? Did you poison me?”

Snape tapped Harry’s wand against the stone Pensieve and sneered. 

“No, Potter. Albus Dumbledore poisoned you, and you drank it down willingly. Then you both turned to me to clear up your messes with no regard for what I wanted.”

Harry shuddered, his arse was still cramping but, somehow, his body no longer thought this feeling was painful. It was so close to pleasure that Harry’s cock was half-hard, the room was so hot and his clothes felt itchy 

“But I decided that I could, for once, take a little something for myself,” Snape stepped forward, his back rigid as if he was trying to hold himself as far away from Harry as he could get, whilst still walking towards him. “This is a war and you are children playing at being soldiers. At least Weasley showed a surprising sense for self-preservation and left you. Granger is safe,” Snape held up his hand and glowered as Harry opened his mouth to interrupt. “Were you aware that she had spelled her parents to forget about her? Oh, I see you were. And does that seem ethical to you? A necessary evil for the greater good?” Snape low voice jeered and Harry looked away. When he said it like that it did seem cruel, but Hermione had done it to help her parents, to keep them safe. 

“Please,” Harry whimpered through his pain. He hated the way his voice sounded, he wanted to cry and wanted Snape to stop being so hateful. There had been a time when he’d grown almost fond of Snape, it seemed like so long ago now, but thinking about those evenings spent in Snape’s quarters made tears form in his eyes. “Sevrus.”

Snape face was completely blank and impassive. He took another step towards the bed and then halted. 

“I won’t be forced, even by you, Harry, not even now,” Snape said, but his voice was as gentle as it used to be back when they used to meet in his quarters. Harry whimpered again, remembering what it had been like when Severus used to touch him so reverently, back before he knew what Snape was really like. Back before he knew that the only man who’d ever given him pleasure was a murderer. 

His body was on fire and the closer Snape got the more he yearned, he didn’t even feel sick anymore, just tense and feverish. 

“The Pensieve, I think would be best,” Snape said with such a tone of authority that it made Harry’s stomach twist strangely. His arse clenched again, and although it hurt, Harry was mortified to feel a drop of wetness fall from his arse and dampen the back of his balls. 

Snape’s nose twitched but he didn’t say anything as he put the Pensieve on the bed. There, in the silvery water, Harry could see Albus Dumbledore sitting in the Headmaster’s Office. It was so shocking that he had to lean forward to get a better look. Unthinkingly, he fell, headfirst into the Pensieve. He cursed silently to himself. He hadn’t meant to go into the Pensieve. He could hardly trust Snape’s Pensieve not to harm him. 

“Harry!” Dumbledore’s voice called out and Harry’s heart nearly broke. The older man’s voice sounded just as he remembered it. 

He was standing in Dumbledore’s Office, while the Headmaster sat behind his desk gazing straight ahead of him. Harry looked around but there wasn’t anyone else in the room.

“Harry, welcome, once again, to one of my memories. I hope it is as satisfyingly rich in detail as the last that we viewed together, although I am aware that if you are viewing this then I am no longer alive. I fear that I have placed a great burden on Severus’s shoulders, but you must not blame him for it.”

“What?” Harry interrupted, but the memory didn’t change or falter. Dumbledore remained sitting at his desk, his eyes still staring forward with no acknowledgement that Harry had spoken. This was a message from Dumbledore, and as much as Harry wished he could talk to him, all he could do was stand, open mouthed, as Dumbledore carried on speaking. 

“History will judge me most harshly for what I have done to you, Harry. To plunge you into this life with no warning, no guidance. If you choose to bring forth more omegas then you will forever change the Wizarding World.” The Headmaster stretched his hand out as if he wanted to reach out and touch him. Harry took a step forward, reaching out his hand too. He knew he wouldn’t be able to touch anything inside the Pensieve, but it was an unconscious action. 

Dumbledore’s hand dropped back to his desk before Harry reached him. He wasn’t sure why it was up to him to make more omegas, he hadn’t been given the recipe for Dumbledore’s black potion that had changed him into an omega.

“My beautiful boy, that was a burden I never meant for you to carry. There was a chance, had you let Tom kill you, that you would have survived. His Killing Curse might have only destroyed his Horcrux and the bond of your blood in his veins would have kept you alive. The chance was slim, it was just a theory, but I could not risk you. I chose, instead, to alter you, to be sure that you would live. I hope that you can forgive an old man, Harry. It was a decision that was born of love.”

Dumbledore’s looked so _alive_ , so healthy compared to the broken corpse that was Harry’s last memory of him; but Harry had never seen the living man look so sad. He wished that Dumbledore had told him everything about being an omega, that he’d been honest with him. But the man had done what he’d done only to avoid Harry’s death and he found he could not be angry at that

“My own life is coming to an end,” Dumbledore continued, pushing up his sleeve to show his black and withered hand. “In a moment of weakness I put on Gaunt’s ring. It has a value that Tom never realised and that I once keenly wished for. Alas, as soon as I touched it, I felt Tom’s curse. I hurried back to Hogwarts and Severus was able to contain the curse to just my hand. However, even with all his skill, the curse could not be held back indefinitely. 

“I am dying, Harry, that is an inescapable fact, but I will use my death to benefit others. I have asked Severus to kill me. It will show Tom that he is trustworthy and it is my hope that he will be made Headmaster. Once Tom has control of Hogwarts then I fear for the safety of all the students. Severus will then be in a position to protect them. Beyond that, Draco Malfoy has been asked to kill me. He is a young man prone to making wrong choices, but still not so lost as to become a killer. With Severus’s intervention, he may never become one. 

“We all grieve for those that have gone before us, Harry. But please, do not grieve for me too much. I am going off on an adventure, and my only regret is that I could not stay longer to see you victorious. I did not want to cause a rift between you and your alpha, however utmost secrecy was required in order to protect Severus’s position. But, as you are here, then let me assure you of his innocence. 

“I would wager that Severus’s is showing you this memory because your Heat has struck. This must be trying time for you, and the ramblings of an old man are hardly what you want to hear right now.”

Dumbledore blushed, his cheeks flushing a gentle pink.

“So, this is goodbye. Please don’t be too angry with Severus, he has always deserved your trust and it is my fervent hope that the two of you may one day find peace and happiness.”

Dumbledore suddenly glanced up, and Harry had the distinct impression that he was staring right into Harry’s eyes.

“Farewell, Harry.”

And with that, the memory ended and Harry found himself being pushed out of the Pensieve. He cried out in shock and anguish, reaching out to try and grab hold of something, to stay in Dumbledore’s Office. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to go back out into the world where Dumbledore was dead.

Harry jolted on Snape’s bed. His face was wet though it was only when he put his fingers to his cheeks that he realised that he’d been crying. Snape peered down at him, his dark eyes giving away nothing. 

Harry heard himself breathing, gulping back air. He didn’t know if it was because he was still crying, or because his body ached and throbbed so much. Snape picked up the Pensieve and set it on the bedside table with an annoyed air. Harry wanted to hate him. It had been so much easier when he could just blame him for everything.

“You still killed him.” 

“Yes.”

Harry looked away unhappily. 

“Have you...Do you know what he said? In the memory?”

“No,” Snape said, stepping away from him. His face was twisting with anguish and Harry felt something he’d never imagined he’d feel before. He pitied Snape. Dumbledore had been, as far as Harry could tell, his only friend. And he’d asked Snape to kill him. 

“Why are you showing me this now? What’s a Heat?”

Snape’s jaw clenched tightly in that way that Harry knew meant he was suppressing some sarcastic barb. 

“It,” Snape began as all expression dropped from his face. It was unnerving to see that much blankness on a face that he was so used to seeing strong emotions on. “It is a biological function.”

Snape didn’t say anything else, his mouth so firmly closed that Harry thought the man intended never to speak again. Harry whined, a soft, high-pitched noise that he didn’t know he’d been able to make but he was too impatient to talk 

“Did you ever have a female cat?”

Harry frowned and shook his head.

“Omegas,” Snape continued tortuously, “Go into estrus.”

Harry didn’t even bother to make a noise this time he just glared at Snape, willing him to make sense. 

“Estrus is a time of sexual receptiveness.”

Harry squinted up at Snape in confusion. 

“You are painfully aroused and the only way to make it stop is to have sex. With your bonded. With me.”


	12. Chapter 12

“What?” Harry squeaked, so shocked that he momentarily forgot his pain. He couldn’t fathom the words that had come out of Snape’s mouth. It seemed ridiculous that Snape had even said the word ‘sex’, let alone suggested that the two of them should have sex. Harry had kissed three people in his life, actually having sex had never even occurred to him. It was something that he assumed he would do at some point in his future, but not yet. Not now. “That’s - “

Harry’s protest was cut off as his arse spasmed again. It felt strange, not exactly painful, but confusingly good. He could feel his cock hardening and he tried to will it down. The word 'sex' seemed to echo round his head in Snape's low voice. His arse felt even damper.

“I had hoped,” Snape sat down on the bed beside him, his face turned to the wall so that Harry could study his profile. His hooked nose looked larger than ever and he was pale and tired. “I had hoped to prepare you more before this day came. I wanted to accustom you more to the idea of being sexual partners.”

“I’m not,” Harry blurted out, he couldn’t even say the word sex in front of Snape. “I don’t want to, to do _that!”_

“I’m hardly about to force you,” Snape responded crisply. Harry nodded jerkily and closed his eyes as another wave of pain hit him. Except this time the pain had turned to pleasure and he almost _wanted_ the feeling to continue. He squirmed and realised that his arse had been steadily leaking. The slick had soaked his underpants and, now, rubbing against them felt good. His bum felt sensitive and each movement was exquisite. He squirmed again, trying not to make any noise. He’d never thought of his arse as being a particularly sexual part of him, but now he didn’t want to stop rubbing it against the bed. His cock, trapped in his underpants, wanted to be released, but he wasn’t about to do that, not in front of Snape.

He let out a breath, trying to calm down, but his hips couldn’t stay still. It felt so good. Not in the illicit way that wanking as quickly and quietly as he could, late at night in the dorm at Hogwarts, felt. This didn’t feel dirty or wrong. He wasn’t choosing to feel this way, to do this to himself. 

“ ‘M hot,” Harry groaned, stretching out his arms to try and find a part of the bed sheets that felt cold. His back arched off the bed, pushing his chest up into the air. His nipples rubbed painfully against his shirt. 

“Take your clothes off and get under the covers.”

Harry groaned. It sounded like such a good idea, but there was no way that he was going to obey Snape.

“Go away.” Harry meant to wait until Snape was gone to start undressing, but the idea of being naked was too appealing. Snape's scent, alpha strong, reminded Harry of Hogwarts and safety. His clothes itched so much and he couldn't remember why he wasn't supposed to be naked in front of Snape. He tore at his clothes, only slowing down when he heard the rip of stitches breaking. The noise made him pause instinctively, as if Aunt Petunia herself were there to scold him for damaging precious Dudley’s old clothes. When Harry sat up to take off his trousers he realised that he was alone in the room. Snape really had gone. It was a relief to know that, despite what Snape had been saying about alphas and omegas, the man really would leave him alone. 

His underpants were stuck to his bum. He had to peel them off carefully, dropping them to the floor with a loud, wet thud. Before the noise would have embarrassed him, but now the relief of getting out of his itchy clothes was so great that it drove everything from his mind. 

In the man’s absence Snape’s scent was receding, getting weaker even though Harry sniffed hungrily, trying to get another good whiff of it. Harry’s bare skin was still itchy, and no amount of scratching helped; and the pain in his arse was getting worse again. It was too hot to lie in the bed, there was sweat on his skin, soaking into the sheets he was lying on. He was burning up. He ripped at his skin, trying to scratch. He was fire and he longed for a cooling touch. He was going to die, here in Snape’s bed. His arse spasmed again and he screamed in pain. 

The pain seemed to last forever, driving all thought from his head. This was worse than the Cruciatus, worse than anything he’d ever felt. Cool fingers suddenly touched his cheek, holding back the pain, and he leaned into the welcome relief. 

“Hush, Harry. I’m here.”

That smooth voice cut through the agonising wailing scream that had been filling Harry’s ears and he realised in amazement that he was making that awful noise. He was still screaming. He closed his mouth and the noise became muted but he couldn’t stop the pained whimpers.

Harry shuffled towards the source of delicious coolness. This was what he needed and right now it didn’t matter that he was here with Snape or what Snape planned to do to him. All that mattered was stopping the pain and the heat. All that mattered was that his alpha was here to look after him.

He opened his mouth to talk to Snape, to tell him that he had to do whatever was necessary to make all this stop. But he couldn’t. The only noise that he could make were pained bleats. He tried to look up at Snape’s face, into those dark, knowing eyes. 

Snape moved away from him, removing himself altogether from the bed. It was the opposite of what Harry wanted and he let out an anguished scream. His eyes screwing shut as he tried to calm down. Almost immediately, Snape was back, pressing against him, but now Harry could feel Snape’s cool skin against the entire length of his body. Snape had to be naked. There was something terribly funny about the idea of Snape, who was always swathed under long robes and clothes that kept him hidden from the world, ever being naked. He would have laughed, but the press of cool skin against him wasn’t funny, it was brilliant. Harry writhed closer, hugging on to Snape with both his arms. Harry’s cock was painfully hard, but Snape was hard too, so Harry wasn’t embarrassed. 

“Tell me,” Snape groaned, his voice so low that Harry could feel the reverberations of it against his skin. He pressed closer, wanting. “Tell me you want this.”

Harry nodded, desperate and fervent, trying to make Snape understand that he would do whatever Snape wanted as long as he took away this heat and this yearning and need. 

“Say it, Harry. Say the words,” the words were a serpent’s hiss into Harry’s fevered ear and he couldn’t even imagine what Snape was asking him to say.

“Help me,” Harry pleaded, unable to focus on what was in front of him, even though he was still wearing his glasses. He breathed his plea out, unsure if Snape heard him or not. Snape was a member of the Order, he was safe in a primal way that went beyond anything that Harry could articulate even in the privacy of his own head.

“Tell me,” Snape’s voice was so low that it was almost indistinguishable from a growl. “Tell me you need this.”

“I,” Harry gasped out, surprised that he was still able to put words together, “I need you.”

Snape let out a low, animalistic noise that Harry’s whole body seemed to respond to. He closed his eyes. He wasn’t Harry Potter anymore. Harry Potter would never have said those words. Now he was just feeling and sensation and heat and overwhelming desire. 

Snape was all around him, delicious and intoxicating. Cool fingers touched his thighs and Harry opened his legs, wanting to be touched more. He was burning up and knew instinctively that what Snape was doing to him would make him feel good. 

Something cool slipped inside his arse, wriggling slowly. Snape's fingers were inside him but Harry wasn't embarrassed because they were touching the hottest part of him, that place inside that was burning and killing him. Snape's fingers were taking the pain away and it was wonderful. 

He needed Snape to end his agony. Spreading his thighs wider he hoped that Snape would understand what he wanted without having to say anything else. Harry closed his eyes, concentrating on nothing but the delicious push of Snape against his hole. Something pushed at him, forcing its way into his arse. Harry groaned as the air was forced from his lungs. Snape was pushing in and in, reshaping Harry's insides to perfectly fit around his cock.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Snape pulled out. He was still rubbing against the place inside Harry that was burning and Harry panicked, scared that Snape was going to pull out entirely and let him suffer in agony again.

"Please."

He whimpered the word so softly that he wasn't sure if Snape heard it, but he couldn't bring himself to repeat it, or say it any louder. Snape must have heard it because he shoved back in, punching into Harry so hard that the burning inside him seemed to explode. His whole body spasmed and then locked and then he was coming; his cock twitching against Snape's stomach.

Harry opened his eyes.

Snape was above him, and inside him. Snape’s head was just above his; dark hair falling down like a curtain, so that Harry couldn’t see anything except Snape himself. Harry shivered, the aftershocks of his orgasm making his muscles spasm unpredictably. He didn’t hurt anymore, or even feel hot. Doing this with Snape had ended his heat, but now he couldn’t bear to look at Snape. He shut his eyes again as Snape let out a grunt and the cock in his arse jabbed at him one last time. 

The man’s cock was still inside him, pressing into him in a way that couldn’t be natural. Harry shut his eyes and pressed his lips closed. He couldn’t stand to look at Snape’s usually sallow face, made red with the exertion of fucking him. He hated the way that he could feel Snape’s panting breaths on his face. Most of all he hated himself and his own body. He had wanted this, he had enjoyed it. What kind of sick pervert was he?

“Get off me.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but he really wanted Snape to move. The cock in his arse twitched again, as if it had a life of it’s own. Snape was still coming, was still filling Harry’s arse with his come. 

“Keep still,” Snape whispered harshly. “We’re tied.”

Harry opened his eyes to glare at the man on top of him. Snape was watching him so intently and Harry felt something in him soften. Everyone in the Order, all the other teachers, thought that Snape had murdered Dumbledore; he was completely alone and friendless. Except for Harry. 

Then Harry thought of his mother. She had been Snape’s friend, and he had betrayed her to Voldemort. He thought of all the years that Snape had made his life hell, bullying him when he could have befriended him. Harry would have done anything to have known more about his mother, but Snape had never even mentioned her name. He twisted, trying to roll out from under Snape. 

Instantly, there was an agonising pain in his bum and Snape was letting out a pained yell in his ear. 

“Stop it!”

“What the hell is that? What have you done?” Harry asked in bewilderment. 

“There’s a knot, a protuberance, at the base of my penis. All alphas have them,” Snape said in a strained voice, his lips tight together as if Harry had really hurt him. Harry stilled, watching Snape’s face as the man held himself above Harry, their chests not touching at all. Snape’s cock was still inside him, still twitching occasionally. 

So this was sex. It was hard to believe. He’d always thought that sex was something a person did with someone they loved and intended to spend the rest of their lives with. This seemed impersonal. Like a medical necessity, rather than anything romantic. 

Snape released a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Harry could feel the man’s cock moving inside him as the knot started to deflate. He really wanted a shower and to wash away the layer of sweat that was on his skin. Now that Snape’s eyes were closed, he was free to examine his face up close. He could see each individual dark eyelash lying against his pale cheek. Snape had never looked so frail and vulnerable and Harry was fascinated by it. Was this Snape's first time too? Harry had never thought about it before, but he would have assumed, in a vague sort of way, that Snape hadn't been a virgin, just because he was so old. But then he was also an alpha, which meant he had that weird knot. Harry squirmed, feeling the knot. It was just starting to deflate, his arse was no longer being pushed open as much.

Snape kept his eyes closed, which was a relief to Harry. What could he possibly say to Snape now?

Snape's cock, soft, slimey and knotless, slipped from his arse. If Harry had been free to move then he would have rolled away immediately, but Snape was still above him, lying between Harry's open thighs. 

Finally, Snape moved away. He stood up next to the bed so that Harry could see his entire naked body.

Snape’s black thicket of pubes did nothing to hide the cock that bulged out like an elephant’s trunk. It bobbed slightly as Snape moved around and Harry watched it in morbid fascination. That thing, that impossibly huge thing had been inside him. It was still damp, shining wetly. He could still feel the effects of his Heat, a buzzing in the back of his mind and a shiver along his skin, that told him that this was just a brief respite. His Heat had only abated, it wasn’t finished. That meant he’d have to have sex with Snape again. Perhaps again after that, and however many more times it took until this feeling ended. Harry gulped. It hadn’t been bad, he didn’t feel violated or upset. In fact it had felt sort of good, just not what he’d expected sex to feel like. He’d expected it to be more intimate, but he just felt detached from his body. He wondered if it would be different with someone that he loved, or even liked. 

The skin at the base of Snape’s cock was looser than normal skin, and it sagged slightly. That must be where his knot would swell up. Harry licked his lips distractedly. They were bone dry. In fact, his whole mouth felt dry from all the panting he’d been doing, even though he'd barely been aware of it at the time.

“I’m thirsty,” Harry said, not looking at Snape’s face. 

He’d caught glimpses of the other boys pricks before, quick snatches of Ron’s flame red pubes and the vague outline of something else nestled down there. But it wasn’t good manners to be caught looking, so Harry had always looked away quickly. He knew he wasn’t gay, he didn’t need to look at other men’s pricks. 

But Snape was just standing there, completely naked and apparently completely unconcerned. Harry watched as Snape’s cock twitched and start to harden as Harry continued to stare at it. It didn’t look terribly different from his own, just bigger. Longer and maybe thicker. Definitely thicker than he’d been since the Incident in Charms when his penis had hurt and shrunk. 

Snape bent down and pulled something out from under the bed. Harry pushed himself up on to his elbows to watch what he was doing, feeling like an idiot that he hadn’t thought to check under the bed when he’d first arrived. Snape had pulled out a box filled with plastic bottles of water and a few packets of food.

He opened a bottle of water, the seal breaking with a loud crack, and handed it to Harry. Snape didn't take anything else from the box, instead standing up so that his cock was, once again, in Harry's eyeline. He sat up and took a gulp of water. He hadn't realised how thirsty he was until now and he took another deep gulp. He'd almost finished half the bottle before he stopped himself, suddenly painfully aware of his own nakedness. If he was able to look at Snape's cock then that mean that the man was looking at him too, probably judging him.

“I shrunk! My…My privates shrank! Because of the potion. Because I’m an omega!” Harry spluttered. He'd always known that had been what had happened, but he’d always pushed it from his head. He hadn’t wanted to think about it. He was too shocked to say anything else. The idea of Dumbledore, so old and asexual, giving him a potion that had affected his penis was disturbing. 

“That is possible but,” Snape’s voice was low. ”You are beautiful like this,” 

It was such a cruel thing to say, Harry knew he wasn't beautiful. They had had to have sex because of biology rather than affection, but he'd hoped that Snape wouldn't actually taunt him. He should have known better. Snape had never resisted an opportunity to taunt Harry. He finally looked away from Snape’s crotch to glare up at Snape’s face, but the look on the man’s face stopped Harry. Snape was looking at him with such an expression of wonder that Harry wasn’t sure what to do. It seemed ludicrous to imagine that anyone would find him beautiful, but the way that Snape was staring at him was impossible to misinterpret.

“I’m not,” Harry muttered mulishly and pulled at the bed sheets, gathering them up and pulling them around him so that his body was covered and Snape couldn’t see him anymore. Snape didn’t seem perturbed though, as if he complimented Harry on his beauty everyday. He pushed the box back under the bed with his foot, then picked up the bedside table drawer and the things that had been scattered when Harry’s Heat had struck.

“What is that?” Harry asked as Snape put the potion’s vial on the table.

“A Contraceptive Potion.”

Harry stared at it, aghast, his thoughts churning rapidly. The potion confirmed what Dumbledore had hinted at in his message; that he could get pregnant. He felt a sudden shock of horror. His body had already changed so much, without his permission or consent or, even, understanding. The thought that his body could betray him so utterly was horrendous. Then another thought struck him. If he did get pregnant then they wouldn’t just be his children, they would be Snape’s children too. Harry shuddered and focused on the more pressing issue. 

“You’re crazy if you think that I’m drinking one of your potions again. Not after you gave me the potion that did all this to me!” He waved his hand, gesturing to his body as he thought about the cold, black potion that he’d drunk all those months ago that had changed him into an omega and had led to him lying here like this. 

Snape snorted loudly

“Can you not smell yourself? Don’t you understand how fertile you are? How your body yearns to be filled and breed? Not even one of my potions could dampen your fecundity. We must just pray to Merlin that this was sufficient. I’ve already taken it,” Snape tilted the vial so it caught the light and Harry saw that it was indeed empty.

“Oh,” Harry bit his lip and looked away. Snape had filled him earlier, and bred him. The thought made his stomach coil heatedly. The fever that had been so overwhelming before was coming back. “I feel…” Harry stopped, blushing. He would have looked up at Snape’s face, but there was something almost mesmerising about the man’s cock as it slowly filled, hardening the longer Harry watched it. “I’m hot.”

Harry let his head sink down onto the pillow, Snape’s alpha scent enveloping him. The bed sheets were beginning to scratch at his skin again, and this time Harry was less concerned about being naked in front of Snape. He threw them off and let out a relieved sigh as the cool air hit his skin. His arse was damp with his own lube and Snape’s come but he didn’t care that he was dirty. After all, it wasn’t like he cared what Snape thought about him. 

Snape put the book and the odd, hollow black ball that Harry had found in the drawer on the bedside table. Harry frowned, remembering his earlier confusion. 

“What is that thing?”

“What _thing?”_ Snape’s tone was sharp but Harry could feel the fever already settling back in, and the cramping pain in his lower body was starting again. 

“That,” Harry’s voice slurred slightly, and he opened his legs again. He wanted Snape to come and sooth him again, but he didn’t know how to ask. 

“It…” Snape’s voice seemed to be coming from a great distance, “It’s for my knot. Do you need it again? Do you need me again, Harry?”

Harry closed his eyes, his hips thrusting upwards of their own volition, but Snape wasn’t above him and he was all alone on the bed. He shivered and reached down to feel himself. He had to lift his balls out of the way and his wrist ached as he reached for his hole. There was so much fluid and he didn’t think it was normal for his arsehole to be so sloppy and loose. One of his fingers slipped inside, brushing against his sensitive rim and making Harry moan in surprise. Why, he didn’t need Snape at all if he could make himself feel this good with just his finger. He pumped the finger in and out. moaning slightly at the illicit thrill of it. He couldn’t quite seem to reach that spot inside him that Snape had been able to, but it was OK. As long as he kept fucking himself with his finger then his returning Heat didn’t hurt at all. Every few seconds his arse would spasm and more lube would come out of his arse. Harry pushed another finger in. 

He let out a whine of frustration. That spot inside him was beginning to burn and he still hadn’t been able to reach it. He pulled his hand away and rolled up onto his hands and knees. Pushing three fingers into himself felt better. He could get a slightly deeper inside himself from this angle, but it still wasn’t enough. 

He let out a small scream. The pain was building and he was so close to being able to end it himself, but he just couldn’t quite reach. A cool hand stroked through his hair and he turned into it so that the hand was cupping his cheek. 

“Tell me what you need,” the words whispered along his skin as cooling as his alpha’s fingers

“Need,” Harry panted, his hips rocking backwards and forwards into empty air. “Sevrus.”

Instantly, Snape was behind him, his cock pushing into him where Harry’s fingers had been just moments before. His fingers had been nothing to this, they had teased him, a slight pleasure that was just a prelude to this. He could feel each vein on Snape’s cock as it pushed into him, rubbing against him. Snape’s chest was pressed against his back so that almost every part of their bodies were touching but it still wasn’t enough. Harry pushed his hips back, wanting Snape to be further inside him, to carve out his insides as he had before. 

A heavy hand pushed down on his neck and every muscle in Harry’s body went limp at the same time. His arms and knees gave out and he plummeted, face first, into the pillow. Snape’s hand was pushing him down and down while the cock in his arse pounded into him. He tried to breathe through the pillow but he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. It didn’t matter, because breathing was secondary to the way that Snape was fucking him. It felt so good, satisfying the itch that was overwhelming all his other senses. If he could have breathed, if he could have spoken, he would have been begging Snape for more, to fuck him harder. He was glad that he couldn’t speak. 

Snape’s hand came off his neck, and Harry opened his mouth but all that came out was a scream as he came, suddenly and completely, spending himself all over Snape’s bed. 

Behind and above him, Snape was still fucking into him and all Harry could do was lie still and wait for him to finish. Harry’s whole body was being rocked with each of Snape’s powerful thrusts and Harry’s cock was rubbed into the wet bedding. It stung but he wasn’t strong enough to twist away so he didn’t even try. He could hear Snape grunting, his breath loud as he rutted into Harry like an animal. 

Suddenly he pushed into Harry harder than ever and his knot started to swell. This time Harry knew to expect it and he could feel it. His arse was being pushed wider and wider, his rim stretching to the point of pain and that place inside him was right next to the knot. It felt different this time. There was too much pressure and it hurt. Harry wiggled his arse, trying to adjust himself and he pushed the pillow out of the way so that he could speak. 

Snape’s knot was going to make him bleed, there was no way that something that big could be inside him and not tear him. It was too much, it was definitely too much and then, just as before when pain had turned to pleasure, the pain wasn’t enough. It felt good to have that huge thing pressing against his most sensitive parts. And the bigger it grew, the more it pressed down on to Harry and he could feel another orgasm building. 

“Snape,” Harry said, not sure what to do and then he was coming again, his muscles locking even though nothing was coming out of his own cock. He’d already come too much and his third orgasm was completely dry. Snape’s wasn’t. He could feel the man’s cock pumping out come, the ridges of his cock moving as he pushed more and more of his come into Harry. 

 

Snape collapsed onto Harry’s back. He was heavy, but Harry didn’t care. He was too wrung out. It was a relief to close his eyes and let his weary body rest. He was exhausted and, if it hadn’t been for Snape’s panting breath in his ear and knot in his arse, Harry would have fallen straight to sleep. 

His entire lower body felt damp, with sweat and lube and come. It was disgusting, but he was too tired to care.

“How,” Harry lifted his head. Even the muscles in his neck ached. “How much more?”

Snape muttered something. Harry could feel the shape of the words against his ear, but he couldn’t make sense of the sounds. He was so tired. He let himself drift away; despite everything he felt safe and warm. Nothing could reach him through Snape’s heavy body so he let sleep claim him. 

He was having a nightmare. He knew he was asleep and he wanted to wake up, he was heat and pain and he clawed at himself trying to end it. He screamed, noiselessly, but he still didn’t wake up. He was so scared that he would never wake up again. Then Snape was there, even though Harry couldn’t see him. Cooling him and comforting him and Harry let his alpha take control, ending his nightmare as he drifted back down into dreamless slumber. 

When he woke up again it was getting dark out; the light hadn’t been turned on so the room was filled with shadows. He was lying on his side with Snape right behind him. Harry made to get up, but instantly felt the tight pull of Snape’s knot in his arse, tying them together. His mind felt clearer and he was sure his Heat was over. He shivered and pulled the bed sheets over himself and slightly over Snape too. His lower body was felt dry, and he wasn’t sure how that was possible. He remembered being soaking wet before. Harry stretched, and his muscles cramped painfully. There were scratch marks on his body that had broken through the skin and left bloody lines on his arms and chest. He couldn’t remember how they had got there, and would have assumed that Snape had put them there, but there was blood under his own fingernails and he did remember how hard he’d been trying to scratch his itchy skin. It wasn’t a surprise that he had been able to do that to himself. 

“Snape?” he whispered. The man’s cock was still in his arse, but he could feel it shrinking and slowly falling out of him. It was foul. “Are you awake?”

Harry shuffled forward, trying to get some more space between the two of them. Snape’s cock fell out of him with a wet slap and dribble of liquid against his arse cheek. Harry moved further away until he was right at the edge of the bed. Even though he had only just woken up he was still exhausted, his whole body was raw and he wanted to fall asleep and wake up back in his tent. 

He rolled onto his back and saw that Snape was awake, watching him closely. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about the man. He’d just lost his virginity to Snape, but it hadn’t been romantic or even personal. Harry was sure he would have died, swallowed up by the pain of his Heat, if he and Snape hadn’t had sex. Here, surrounded by Snape’s alpha scent, Harry finally felt comfortable for the first time in months, but he didn’t, couldn’t, forget exactly who he was with. Harry’s Heat wasn’t going to change anything between the two of them. 

“You lied about the bond failing,” Harry said, his throat was dry and voice cracked slightly as he spoke. Snape sat up in the bed, pulling the bed sheet is that it covered him better and reaching over to pick up a bottle of water that was on the bedside table. He passed it to Harry and waited until Harry had started to drink before answering. 

“Yes, I lied,” Snape took a deep breath and Harry got the impression that this was a speech that Snape had been thinking about for some time. There was a stilted quality to his tone and he didn’t meet Harry’s eyes. “There is no reprieve, no chance of severing the bond. But what else was I to do?

“I never gave a thought to life after the War, to my own life or happiness beyond the defeat of the Dark Lord. And then this most unexpected of boons. Albus told me that he knew how to create an omega, that he wanted me to bond with that omega. But, of course, it had to be you. I knew you would want nothing to do with me, that I would go insane having my own omega hate me, to not want to touch me outside of your heats. Then you drank the damned potion and you only had eyes for Malfoy. He treated you with just as much contempt as I had, yet you were clambering after him. Even though you were mine in every sense of the word that should have mattered. It wasn’t enough.

“If I hadn’t lied about the possibility of the bond failing, do you think you would have spent a second longer in my company than was necessary? And to see you kissing that wanton strumpet!”

Snape’s fist clenched arounds the sheets and he threw them off him. It was too dark for Harry to see his naked body clearly and Snape’s clothes must have been on the floor next to the bed because he began to pull them on. Each movement was jerky and angry. 

“And what would have happened when your Heat struck and you craved your greasy professor instead of your beautiful...This way, this way at least we were on slightly less confrontational terms.” Snape looked away with a guilty expression. Snape felt guilty that they’d had sex. Harry hesitated. He didn’t blame Snape for what had happened. If anyone was to blame then it was Dumbledore, who hadn’t even asked Harry’s opinion before making him into an omega. Back then Harry would have probably chosen the risk of death instead of having to have sex with Snape. But it hadn’t been that bad. Harry nodded and rolled away. He really wanted to be by himself for a while. 

He listened carefully as Snape pulled on more and more clothes, doing up button after button, until finally he finished. 

“We must return to Hogwarts tonight. I cannot be absent much longer,” Snape said, walking around the bed to get to the door. Harry didn’t move as he came into sight. He looked like he always had in the past, buttoned up and proper. It suddenly struck Harry as laughable that he’d seen Snape naked. He huffed back his chuckle. Everything that the two of them had done together seemed so ridiculous that Harry wanted to giggle and giggle, but he didn’t think that Snape would understand. “I’ll fetch you some clothes and then we must be on our way.”

Harry nodded once but didn’t make a move to get out of bed until after Snape returned and put a small bundle of clothes on the bed. He left without further comment, which relieved Harry. The clothes were all things that he’d been wearing when he left the tent. These were the clothes that he’d been wearing the previous day, but they weren’t as smelly with sweat as they had been when Harry had taken them off and thrown them on the floor that morning; Snape must have spelled them clean. It seemed like an unnecessary kindness and made Harry think that Snape must really be feeling guilty about having sex with him. He hadn’t known that Snape was even capable of guilt. 

The bedroom door opened easily when Harry turned the door knob. The hallway beyond the door was just as Muggle as Snape’s bedroom. It was narrow; cheap, peeling wallpaper lined the walls and the carpet was threadbare. Although there were a few other doors off the hallway Harry decided, for once, not to investigate. He headed down the stairs and found himself in a small cluttered sitting room. Snape was waiting for him in a tatty looking armchair. 

He’d always thought that Snape was the most Pure-blooded Slytherin imaginable. But this house was unashamedly Muggle. It clashed completely with the person he'd thought that Snape was. If Snape had known his Mum as a child then he couldn’t have live the privileged, Pure-blood life that Harry had always supposed. It made Harry feel even more wrong footed and unsure of himself. 

“Are you ready?”

“For what?” Harry asked, blinking as Snape’s question broke his train of thought. Snape stood and threw a handful of Floo powder into the small fire that burned in the grate. The flames turned green. 

“You need only say the password and you will be Flooed to the Headmaster’s Office at Hogwarts.”

Harry didn’t move. He couldn’t just go with Snape and give up on the quest for the Horcruxes.

“There you may rest, and in the morning we shall discuss what to do next,” Snape paused, his hands clasped in front of him. “The password is Saxifraga.”

Harry cocked his head, recognising that name of the species of flower that Snape had given him all those months ago in Arles. 

“Alright,” Harry said, stifling a yawn. He was still exhausted and he doubted that it would be safe to return to his tent in the woods. Stepping towards the fire meant getting close to Snape. He didn’t blame him for anything that had happened, but he didn’t want to be too close to him either, so he hurried into the fireplace. “But I’m not staying at Hogwarts for long.”

Snape twitched his head in jerky motion that could have been a nod.


	13. Chapter 13

Harry stepped through the Floo and out into the Headmaster’s office. Snape hadn’t changed anything. Almost all of Dumbledore’s little trinkets were still scattered around the room, clicking and buzzing merrily. It felt like he'd used a time turner and had stepped back into a happier time.

“Harry! My boy!” a familiar voice called out. Harry froze, adrenaline shooting through him as he looked around quickly. He was alone in the room apart from the portraits of the old Headmasters. Dumbledore was beaming down at him, his eyes just as piercing as they had been in life. Harry stared, his mouth gaping. There was every reason to be angry at the man, but he couldn’t seem to stir up that anger anymore. He could only stare, open mouthed and unresponsive at the painting of Dumbledore. Behind him the Floo roared to life and Snape stepped through, brushing his robes free of ash with a practised gesture. 

Harry was struck, once again, by how odd it now was to see him wearing so many clothes. Harry looked down, blushing slightly as he found himself staring at Snape’s crotch. How strange it was to know exactly what Snape was keeping hidden inside his trousers. 

“Our quarters are through that door and to the left,” Snape said tightly, pointing a long finger towards a tucked away door that was half-hidden next to a large bookcase. Harry blinked in surprise. He hadn’t thought about where he would be staying at Hogwarts, and he couldn’t imagine what quarters Snape could possibly be referring to as _ours_.

The door was so small that the lintel brushed Harry’s hair as he walked through it. Snape would definitely have to bend over to use this door, but he wasn't following after him. Harry found himself facing the blank wall of a narrow corridor with a single door on either end. Remembering Snape’s directions, Harry walked to the left and opened the door, peering in without stepping foot inside the room. Beyond the door was Snape’s dungeon sitting room; the green leather sofa looked as comfortable as ever and a small fire burned in the grate. It looked exactly as it had all those months ago when Harry would visit Snape in his dungeon quarters. This door must have the power to transport anyone who stepped through it to a different part of the castle. Harry closed the door gently and walked back down the corridor to see what was behind the right hand side door. 

The door opened to reveal a large, airy sitting room. Harry stepped through, feeling an odd tingle as he did so. The feeling only lasted a second and Harry was too busy to pay it any attention. He was looking around in open mouthed wonder. This room had to be located in a turret of one of Hogwarts highest towers as there were two large windows overlooking amazing panoramas; one overlooking the Forbidden Forest and another looking down over Hogwarts itself. There was no glass in the windows, but Harry knew that they must have been magicked somehow because he couldn’t feel the wind. The round room was almost entirely empty, apart from an armchair and a few knick-knacks on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. 

Harry didn’t think that these rooms could possibly belong to Snape too. There was an emptiness in the air that was making him uneasy. After spending the last few hours in Snape’s company he’d become used to being surrounded by his alpha’s scent, but this room smelled of nothing at all. It was disconcerting, but that wasn’t going to stop him from exploring. With a last glance over his shoulder to make sure that Snape wasn’t following him, he closed the door behind him and walked around the strange room. 

There was only one picture on the mantelpiece. It was a framed photograph of a little girl in Victorian dress. She smiled at him serenely and gave a small wave. 

“Hello,” Harry said quietly to her, not expecting the black and white photo to answer. The girl smiled more wildly, her grin becoming manic as she bared all her teeth. Harry put the picture down hastily, unsettled by her expression. 

Set into the wall was an open staircase that rose up, each step set into the wall, twisting around, as it led up to the floor above. Harry went up the stairs, the palm of his right hand dragging along the stone wall. Through the gap between each stair, he could see the floor further and further beneath him. Once he reached the top of the stairs, he found himself in a wide, open space with a single door that had been left ajar. Harry pushed it open, not sure what to expect in this strange place. 

It was a bedroom. A huge four poster bed with heavy pillows and blankets sat squarely in the middle of the room. The bedclothes were all pristinely white in a way that reminded Harry of Aunt Petunia and endless chores and the chemical burn of his fingers whenever he had to bleach things for her. Beyond the bed there was one last door, which, anticlimactically, turned out to be a bathroom. 

Harry tested the bed with his hands. He was so tired. Kicking off his shoes, he lay down. He didn't mean to fall asleep but he was too weary to stay awake.

He woke with a jolt and an unpleasant feeling of wrongness. This luxurious bed should have been more comfortable than the tent, but the pillows hadn't been arranged into a cocoon and Harry felt vulnerable and exposed. Harry turned quickly and saw that he wasn't alone anymore.

Snape was standing at the foot of the bed, just watching him with an angry expression on his face. Harry yawned and stretched his arms. He knew the gesture would annoy Snape but the man didn’t say anything. He should have said something, he should have yelled at Harry for wandering off. Hogwarts wasn’t a safe place for Harry to be and he’d deliberately and willfully disobeyed Snape but the man wasn’t telling him off. Harry sat up quickly, suddenly angry. Snape was supposed to be the one person in the world who always treated him the same, who didn’t care what the rest of the Wizarding World thought about him, yet here he was being nice to him. How many times had he screamed at Harry in the past because he had to spend his life making sure that Harry was safe, making sure that Harry wasn’t killed because he’d done something idiotic?

“You shouldn’t be here,” Snape said silkily, his voice hushed in the quiet of the bedroom.

“Where else am I going to sleep? I’m not going to your quarters! I’m not sleeping there!” Harry slid back down into the warm bed. He had no sense of time, but he was still tired and didn't want to get up. He blushed, remembering suddenly what he and Snape had done, and changed the subject quickly. “Where are the other things from the tent? Did you find…” Harry trailed off, not sure if he should ask Snape about the locket. He still wasn’t sure if Snape knew about the Horcruxes and, if Dumbledore hadn’t told Snape, then Harry didn’t think he should tell him either. “Everything?”

“Yes,” Snape looked around sharply, his beady eyes peering into the corners of the room as if he expected to be attacked. Something about this place was making him agitated but Harry didn’t really care. “I brought everything that was in the tent, the tent itself and Miss Granger’s rather interesting pouch back to Hogwarts. You should come and make sure that nothing was left behind.”

Harry blinked his eyes open, not even realising that he’d closed them. His muscles ached and his arse was sore. He’d been napping before, but now Snape was here, his scent filling the room and calming something in Harry. He didn’t want Snape’s smell to calm him but it was impossible to resist and he was so very tired. 

“No. Too tired,” Harry snapped, burrowing his head back into his pillow. He was going to get up and check for the locket though, just one more minute in bed. Just until his body felt a little less sore. 

“Aren’t you going to ask about a certain _Dark_ artefact?” Snape asked snidely. Harry closed his eyes, loathing Snape more than ever. He remembered the look on Snape’s face when he came, the way that the wrinkles around his eyes scrunched and his lips pursed in orgasm. 

“The locket?”

“Indeed,” Snape said, drawing out the word in a persuasive drawl. Harry was not going to budge though.

“Go away. I’m tired!”

“And you choose to sleep in Albus Dumbledore’s bed?” Snape bit out. Harry flinched. Part of him had been suspecting that these were Dumbledore’s quarters already; who else’s quarters would be accessible from the Headmaster’s Office? Snape had changed so little in Dumbledore’s office that it made sense that he’d also left the connection to Dumbledore’s chambers in place as well. 

The rooms weren’t how he would have imagined Dumbledore's’ private quarters to look like. It wasn’t something that he’d ever thought about but he would have assumed that his rooms would be stuffed full of furniture: a small army of fluffy armchairs and hundreds of brightly coloured ornaments, not these austere rooms. 

It was weird to think he was in Dumbledore’s bed. On the plus side, he now understood why Snape was looking so agitated and he took a perverse joy in seeing Snape so uncomfortable. Harry doubted that Snape would want to stay long in the rooms of the friend that he’d murdered. 

Harry grunted softly. If he had been less tired he would have got up, but he was still bone weary. He closed his eyes, blocking Snape out and let himself drift away, not quite falling asleep but feeling warm and comfortable. Snape’s reassuring scent remained in the air and Harry wasn’t sure what to feel about that. Losing his virginity to Snape should be enough to drive anyone insane, but Harry still felt detached from it all. It wasn’t like Snape was a complete stranger, or even, Harry thought with a start, someone that he’d never been attracted to. Those evenings he’d spent in Snape’s quarters had been about the happiest he’d had in his sixth year. His kiss had been overwhelming. But none of that made what had happened during his Heat alright. The worst of it was that he didn’t have anyone to blame. He couldn’t just get angry and yell. 

Eventually the warmth of the bed was too enticing and he snuggled down, pulling the duvet around him into a little nest and let himself drift off to sleep. 

He woke feeling warm and rested and comfortable for the first time in weeks. He stretched and rolled over contentedly. This bed was a thousand times more comfortable than the bed in the tent. The pillows still weren’t in a proper cocoon, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore. He stilled. Lying next to him in the bed, under the duvet, was Severus Snape! 

Harry was sure that he hadn’t been lying there when he'd fallen asleep, but Harry had been so tired that he wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. Snape’s hair fell onto the pillow, tangling slightly as if he’d spent the whole night tossing and turning next to Harry. Lifting the duvet, he peered down and saw that Snape was wearing a grey nightshirt. Harry scowled, only just noticing that his own clothes had been changed as well. He was wearing a night shirt in the same style as Snape’s. The cloth was soft against his skin and he realised there was a slight thrum to it. He could feel the residue of Snape’s magic. Snape had Transfigured both their clothes into nightshirts. 

Harry couldn’t seem to look away from Snape. He remembered what that long body looked like during his Heat; how it had held him. What those strong arms felt like as they held him. He scowled suddenly as he remembered how Snape had treated him. Snape had known what a Heat was, he knew that the two of them had to have sex, he’d known that it was a biological necessity. He’d known that for months, maybe he’d known even as he bit into Harry’s neck all those months ago. Snape had a book written by an omega, he would have known what Harry was going through. But instead of just helping Harry, instead of just fucking him, Snape had kept on making him talk, making Harry ask Snape to fuck him. What a triumph that must have been for Snape, to have James Potter’s son beg him, as if Harry were some depraved pervert that actually wanted to touch Snape. He’d humiliated Harry. 

Harry scowled, finally looking up at Snape's face.

Snape’s eyes were open and he was spying on Harry, not moving a single muscle. Harry’s scowl deepened in anger. He wanted to humiliate Snape as much as he’d been humiliated during his Heat. 

“Why did you join the Death Eaters?” Harry spat out suddenly. “Aren’t you muggleborn? You’re just like Riddle, pretending to be a Pureblood because you think that’s better. You’re just a bigot!”

Snape rolled out of bed, his wand appearing in his hand in one swift movement. He aimed it at himself and transfigured his nightshirt back into his usual black robes. They looked just as rumpled as his nightshirt had. 

“Half-blood,” Snape smoothed his hands over his robes, straightening out a few of the wrinkles. “Do you think the Light side is any better? Any more forgiving of those born with supposedly tainted blood? The world we live in is bigoted. Look at your friend Arthur Weasley. Why is it that a Pureblood, a man who doesn’t even understand how a plug works, is head of the government department that deals with Muggle artefacts? Why is it that Miss Granger’s parents were not even informed when their daughter had been Petrified? Because they would worry needlessly; there was nothing they could do, so why alert them? That was the School Governers’ rationale behind not informing them, as if Muggles are children to be shielded from unpleasant and difficult truths. Albus himself, for all his speeches about blood equality, appointed a Pureblood to teach Muggle Studies here. 

"So, no, Potter, I don’t think that Purebloods are better; the world does. And, when I was a teenager, I thought that joining the Dark Lord was the only way to change the world. The only place where a half blood could find some semblance of a meritocracy; where my talent would mean more than my blood. I rapidly discovered that I had been sadly deluded.”

Harry gaped at him in shock. He’d never thought about half the things that Snape had mentioned and his mind rebelled against taking Snape’s word for anything. 

“That’s not..”Harry trailed off. It had always been so easy in the past to correct Snape whenever he’d insulted his Dad, even though Harry had never known James Potter. But this time Snape wasn’t presenting him with any new information, just an interpretation that Harry had never considered before and it was uncomfortably difficult to contradict Snape. “You called my Mum a mudblood. You got her killed, you told Voldemort - “

Snape hissed angrily and grabbed at his forearm, where Harry knew the Dark Mark was branded into his skin. 

“Silence! If you will not obey me then at least try to use your common sense. Even now the Dark Lord plots to put a Taboo on his name. Say it again and risk alerting him to your presence here.”

Harry threw the duvet off and sat up. The nightshirt twisted around him in a way he wasn’t used to, trapping his legs and making him even more frustrated. Snape picked up his wand and used a spell to smooth out the last of the wrinkles in his own robes. After a few deep breaths, Snape began talking again, his tone calmer but still deadly.

“I will not now, nor at any time in the future, answer any questions you might have concerning your abhorrent invasion of my personal memories.” 

Harry could feel himself blushing. He wasn’t proud of the times that he’d looked into Snape’s Pensieve, and the man didn’t even know that he’d done it twice. Nevertheless, Harry got to his feet determinately. 

“Trelawney told me about the prophecy, about how you interrupted her job interview in the Hog’s Head.” 

Snape paled and pointed his wand at Harry with a snap of the wrist. 

“Professor Trelawney,” Snape muttered and Harry felt his nightshirt shift and change into yesterday’s clothes. “That is true.”

Harry blinked in surprise; he hadn’t expected any acknowledgement from Snape and some small part of him, that he hadn’t even realised he had, was disappointed. He’d hoped, for some reason that he couldn’t fathom, that Snape would deny it; would tell him that it was part of one of Dumbledore’s elaborate schemes. That none of it was true and that Snape had had nothing to do with his parent’s death.

“And then you told Vol… _him_ ” Harry’s lips tightened, his anger fading into disappointment and despair. “Why? Why did you do it?”

Snape turned his head sharply, as if Harry had slapped him. 

“Because I didn’t know what the Dark Lord would do with that information. I am not proud of my actions and I do not ask for your forgiveness. I do not expect it. I was a loyal servant of the Dark Lord and I reported the Prophecy in order to gain his favour. Once I understood his purpose, I become Albus’ spy.” Snape turned his head back Harry, his dark eyes unreadable. “None of that changes anything between us. You are still my mate and we are still the only remaining members of the Order who are capable of defeating the Dark Lord.

“Now, I do not have long before I am expected in the Great Hall for breakfast and there are things that we must discuss first. Come with me,” Snape finished and walked out, down the stairs, clearly expecting Harry to just follow him. 

Harry waited for a few seconds, thinking about everything that Snape had just said. His clothes were just as wrinkled as Snape’s had been and he tried to smooth them out; he didn’t actually care if his clothes were a mess, but it was something to do to keep his hands busy. There was a lot to think about, but what struck him most was how Snape didn’t expect his forgiveness. All that emphasis that Snape had put on the two of them being mates but he still didn’t expect his supposed husband to forgive him. Harry might not have the best examples of wedded couples but that still struck him as being very strange. It wasn’t like Harry could just forget about who Snape was, or what he’d done, but he’d expected that Snape would want them to be closer. 

It was Snape who had tried to make things amicable between the two of them. He’d invited Harry into his quarters; fed him, clothed him, taken him on a trip abroad. Had all of that been because he knew that Harry’s Heat was coming? Did Snape think that being his mate meant nothing more than that? Was that why Snape had made Harry beg him for sex? Now that his Heat was over, did that mean that Snape was going to go back to treating him like he used to before they bonded?

Harry should be the one that felt angry and betrayed, and he was, he knew he was; but he also felt a pang of sadness that Snape was going to start treating him like any other member of the Order. It was unfair that some of Harry’s happiest and safest memories were of Snape’s sitting room; the crackle of the fire, the comfort of the sofa and the smell of citrusy tea and his alpha. 

His eyes were groggy with sleep and he blinked quickly in order to see more clearly.

As impersonal as the sex had been, Harry still found that it had changed how he felt about Snape. He’d never been naked with anyone before, he’d never been touched in the ways that Snape had touched him. No-one had ever been inside him before. He knew, mentally, that it had been meaningless, but he didn’t want to go back to hating Snape. 

Why was nothing ever simple or straightforward with Snape?

Harry wiped the sleep from his eyes and yawned. He straightened the duvet, making the bed rather than leaving it for the house elves to do. It was an ingrained habit and gave him a bit more time before he had to face Snape. His arse felt odd as he bent over. Not sore, just well _used._

Opening the bedroom door, he saw that Snape had waited for him and was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his entire body tense as he glared around the room. It struck Harry, just then, exactly what it must have cost Snape to have stayed the night in Dumbledore’s quarters. He must have been, to say the least, uncomfortable; but he’d done it simply in order to stay with Harry. Snape’s own quarters were only a two second walk away, it would have been simple to just leave Harry alone. Surely that wasn’t the action of a man who was only using Harry for his Heat, who truly didn’t care about whether or not Harry forgave him for his past mistakes. 

“Severus?” Harry said, the name falling from his lips more easily than it ever had before. He’d lost his virginity to this man and, despite the circumstances, he didn’t want to call the one person he’d ever been intimate with by his surname. Snape looked up at him, his glare hardening. 

“Hurry up! We’re very late!” Snape sniped, turning away in a cloud of black robes that rustled so loudly that Harry almost didn’t hear as Snape called out his name in a tone that lacked all the bile of his previous words. “Harry.”

Harry smiled and began to descend the stairs. He was still sleepy and, even though the stairs were stable under his feet, he concentrated on not tripping as his arse twinged. 

“What are you - Do you require assistance?” Snape said tersely. Harry glanced up in surprise to see that Snape was watching his slow descent. 

“No!” Harry frowned. He was nearly at the bottom of the stairs now and Snape stepped back to give him space. Snape had been _inside_ him, giving him a few inches of space seemed ridiculous now. “This isn’t what I expected Professor Dumbledore’s rooms to look like.”

“Albus,” Snape grabbed the sides of his batwing robe and wrapped them around himself. It was a gesture that Harry had seen him use multiple times before as he stood lecturing in front of hundreds of Potion classes. “Used a lot of magic in his private life.”

Harry wasn’t sure he understood what that meant, but kept silent anyway. 

“He would conjure whatever furniture was necessary, or redecorate with a wave of his hand, depending on his mood.” Snape looked around and Harry had the impression that he was remembering what the room had looked like in happier times, but he didn’t elaborate further. Harry gazed round too. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Snape knew more about Dumbledore’s private life than Harry did, but he still felt jealous that he’d never seen this side to the man he’d considered his mentor. It was odd that Dumbledore had been such a large part of Harry's life, yet Harry knew nothing about Dumbledore's personal life.

Snape relaxed as soon as they left Dumbledore’s quarters and he led Harry into the kitchen of his own quarters. 

“Obviously I am expected to take most of my meals in public, so we will not be able to eat together,” Snape said, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder and pushing him down into a seat. “However, the house elf that takes care of these chambers is trustworthy. You may ask her for any food that you require if I am not available.”

Turning away Snape began opening cupboard doors and clattering dishes as he set up a breakfast of bread and jam and a large pot of tea. 

“The house elf’s name is Aggy and you must summon her if you feeling at all hungry. You have lost a considerable amount of weight on your ridiculous expedition.”

Harry bristled, fuming to himself as he poured himself a cup of tea. The search for Horcruxes had not been a ridiculous expedition! Plus, he hated it whenever anyone mentioned his weight. Snape had called him beautiful yesterday, and now he was calling him skinny. He should have known that Snape was just saying what he thought was necessary to get into Harry’s pants! He slathered some butter onto a piece of fluffy bread. If he hadn’t been so hungry he would have made some angry retort, but the food in front of him smelled delicious and Snape kept on putting more jars of various types of jam down in front of him. It had been ages since he'd had so much food in front of him. 

Snape sat down opposite him, the table in front of him was completely bare as he spread his hands over the wood. His long fingers looked a lot cleaner than they used to; there were no stains from whatever disgusting Potion ingredients he’d been chopping up recently. 

“As Headmaster my time is not completely at my own disposal. I must take my meals in the Great Hall. I must have regular meetings with members of staff and review their paperwork. Aside from those duties, it is also my responsibility to protect the students from the attention of the Carrows, who the Dark Lord has placed here as teachers, and those others who have fallen prey to the allure of the Dark Lord.”

Harry bit into his slice of bread rather than comment. He thought that saying someone had _fallen prey to the allure of the Dark Lord_ was an incredibly nice way of describing all those junior Death Eaters who must be loving being at Hogwarts right now. He wondered if anyone outside of Slytherin had _fallen prey_ , but his mouth was full so he couldn’t ask. 

“As such,” Snape continued, “I will have to be absent for many hours during both the day and night. Obviously we have a great deal to discuss, but there isn’t the time at the moment and you still need to recuperate from your Heat and from your...excursion. As you have to rest, it would be for the best if you passed the time reading. I have obtained your seventh year NEWT textbooks for you -”

Harry swallowed his mouthful of bread and jam, choking slightly. 

“I’m not going to spend my day studying! I’ve got things to do. I can’t stay here.”

Snape clenched his jaw and when he started speaking again his lips barely opened enough to get the words out. 

“You are not in a fit state to do anything today. You will rest. I hardly think that one lost day is going to do any harm, especially when you consider quite how long you have been on your little quest.”

It wasn’t fair that Snape seemed to know quite how ineffectual the Horcrux Hunt had become. Harry took an extra large bite of bread, tearing into the crust viciously. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until he started eating, or how much he’d missed real food.

“And later, when you are rested, we shall have a discussion about the dangers of Horcruxes.”

Harry choked, coughing and spluttering bread crumbs onto the table. Snape smirked and stood up.

"And we shall discuss my method for destroying them.”

Harry stared at him, too surprised to be embarrassed as he hastily tried to swallow a mouthful of half chewed bread. 

“What? How do you -” Harry said, his mouth still full, but Snape was already sweeping from the room and Harry didn’t have time to get his question out. One second later, Harry heard the door to Snape’s rooms shut and he knew that he had been left alone. 

On the table in the sitting room was a small pile of books. Most of them were NEWT textbooks. Harry thumbed through the Defence Against Dark Arts book, pausing occasionally to look at some of the horrifying illustrations of curse victims. Snape had brought the book that had been in his bedroom too. The book about Ganymede Gaunt, the last omega, was set aside from the other books. Harry tapped the front cover. He definitely needed to read that book, but now wasn’t the right time. This was the perfect opportunity to look around Snape's quarters unobserved. 

There wasn’t much to explore. He’d looked around Snape’s briefly the evening that Trelawney had told him that it was Snape who’d betrayed his parents. He knew that the only rooms that he hadn’t investigated properly were Snape’s bedroom, his bathroom and a small store room. 

The store room was pretty uninteresting. There were more potion ingredients in jars and a few dog eared looking books, but Harry had no idea why these would be stored in here rather than in Snape’s personal lab, or even the shelves of his office. He assumed these potions were particularly nefarious, possibly even illegal. Snape’s bedroom was equally unremarkable. There was only a wardrobe, a large chest of drawers and a bed with a small bedside table. Harry opened the wardrobe and peered inside, expecting to see hangers full of black robes and the occasional white shirt. He frowned at what he saw instead. His clothes had been hung up on the far left hand side of the wardrobe. Everything that he’d brought with him on the camping trip, all Dudley’s old cast-offs, had been carefully hung up and put next to Snape’s pristine robes. The shirt that Snape had bought for Harry in Arles was there too. Harry wasn’t sure when he’d lost that shirt; he would have thrown it away like he had the Arctic Saxifrage after Dumbledore’s death. But it hadn’t been in his trunk when he’d gone back to the Dursleys so Harry had not spared it a moment’s thought. He hadn’t wanted to think about Snape buying him things and being kind to him back then. 

Harry backed away, leaving the wardrobe door open, and went to the chest of drawers, pulling open each drawer with increasing speed until he found one that was half-empty. Inside was all his underwear, greying and holey, yet folded away neatly. He plucked up a pair of underpants, unfolding them as they fell slowly through his fingers. He’d never taken this much care of his own clothes, yet Snape had folded everything away so carefully. 

He remembered, long ago now, how Snape had called their relationship an arranged marriage. This was what married couples did, wasn’t it? They kept their clothes together, they looked after each others things, didn’t they? It felt odd, knowing that Snape had been through his possessions. That he’d taken care of them in a way that no-one else ever had. Harry took a deep breath and realised he was frowning. If Snape had behaved like this before Harry had left Hogwarts and spent months camping then he would have been angry at Snape's presumption, but now, after being so alone, it felt nice to know that someone cared. 

Still frowning, he took some clean clothes out and went to investigate Snape’s shower. He hadn’t washed properly in months. Cleaning charms might be efficient but they never felt as satisfying as actually washing. Snape had a bath and a separate shower cubicle. Harry stripped quickly and got into the shower. He hadn’t noticed it before but his naked body smelled of Snape. Raising an arm to his nose, he sniffed at himself. Snape had always smelled good to him, but the scent was so strong that it made Harry think of his Heat, of Snape’s large alpha cock. 

It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d worried about whether he was gay or not. It was difficult to imagine now. The Dursleys’ petty hatred seemed as ridiculous as their hatred of magic. They would never even be able to imagine what an alpha or an omega were. The thought of explaining it to them made Harry stop as he soaped his body and grin in sudden amusement. He never had to see the Dursleys again. He could tell the whole world that he’d slept with a man and it was no-one’s business but his own. It wasn’t like he’d ever cared about the Dursleys opinion of him; he’d known from a very young age that he would never have their love or respect or even good opinion. So, logically, it shouldn’t matter that he would never have to talk to them again, but the thought made him feel free. 

Harry stuck his head under the shower, letting the water run over his face, washing his cares away. 

After he showered and dressed he made himself comfortable in the sitting room and settled down to read the book about Ganymede Gaunt. Snape must have started fire before he left because there was a small fire burning in the grate. The dungeon room didn’t have any windows, so there was no way of seeing the sun. Even though it was still early morning, it felt like evening to Harry as he started reading:

_My darling sister,  
I am glad to hear that your studies are progressing well and that you have met so many like-minded children with whom you may pass your time. _

_As I read your last letter I was much troubled by the remarks that you made about our father. It is true that much of my freedom has been curtailed as a result of his experiments, however it is by virtue of those experiments that I was born at all. Over the years, he has witnessed the privations to which I am subjected and his thoughts have changed. He chose to destroy the recipe of his Elixir rather than let another omega be created and be forced to live as I have been. I shall be the last of my gender, for I know that I have no wish to reproduce._

_I could be held in as much contempt as he. I have the means at my disposal to restore Wizarding Society to its former glory, yet I shall allow it to fade into decline._

_There are rumours, Father informs me, amongst certain alphas that the rising number of beta wizards was caused by the interbreeding with muggles. I cannot say if that is so, and it strikes me that it would be impossible for anyone to know such a thing. Personally, I see nothing wrong with beta wizards - they are certainly in the majority and it seems foolish to fight against it. The time of the alpha and omega is over. It is unimportant how or why but if we are truly at this juncture because of love, even if that love if between wizards and muggles, then I can hardly bring myself to care._

_I know that you believe father is being unjust in arranging my bonding, but I am inclined to forgive him. I long to see the world beyond the confines of the estate. Wherever I go, I know that I shall draw the attention of alphas, yet if I am bonded I shall be safe from their lusts._

_I will not have the pleasure of meeting Mr Ashcroft until out bonding ceremony. Father has given me a portrait of him though, and he seems perfectly agreeable._

_My first Heat is expected soon and I would be lying if I said I were not nervous. From all Father’s dire warnings, I expected to go into Heat on the very morning of my seventeenth birthday, but fortunately I have had a few months respite. Father suspects that my poor health has delayed it, but I can feel that it approaches now. I feel as if I am finally an adult; Father’s alpha scent is beginning to affect me more and my urges have become stronger. I know that Father is finding this troubling and he has expressed a desire that Mr Ashcroft and I should bond soon. He does not wish for me to go into Heat unmated._

_It is a shame that you will not be able to come home for the ceremony, but I am told it is very short and informal. Naturally I will write to you afterwards and outline every detail. Please, tell me more about your lessons at Hogwarts. I love to hear your stories. It is so thrilling for me to hear about all your friends, especially the interesting life of your dear muggleborn friend._

Harry closed the book with a frown. Ganymede’s style of writing was easier to understand now that he wasn’t burning up with his Heat. The other omega had had his entire life to get used to being an omega, and he’d had his father to help him. Harry had only been in an omega for a few months and no-one had been honest with him about what being an omega meant. Harry had been so out of his mind at the start of his Heat, but he remembered that Snape had had to take a contraceptive. Omegas could get pregnant. Harry touched his stomach in amazement. 

Part of him was awed by that fact. Bonding with Snape didn’t mean that he couldn’t have a family. He could have children, if he wanted. He shuddered in sudden visceral dread. The abstract idea of children was great, but having his body swell up like a pregnant woman’s was disturbing. His omega body had already betrayed him so much. Pregnancy was so far from the life that he’d once envisaged for himself that he wanted to grab the nearest object and throw it at the wall. 

Ganymede seemed certain that he didn’t want to have kids, and Harry was eager to find out why the omega had been so sure of himself. He opened up the book and continued to read. However the next letter was far less informative. Ganymede briefly mentioned that his bonding ceremony would be held very soon, but after that he discussed other topics; he had more questions for his sister about her life at Hogwarts and he seemed fascinated to hear about all her studies and her daily life. Harry supposed he would be equally curious if he’d spent all his life cooped up like Ganymede had been. He wanted to skip through the letter, but he forced himself to read every line, just in case Ganymede said anything else about his life as an omega. 

By the time that Harry had read three more complete letters and learnt nothing new, he was beginning to get bored. It didn’t help that he felt so relaxed and cosy. Life in the tent had been fine, but being indoors, and out of the autumn weather, felt luxurious. Harry half closed Ganymede’s book, keeping his finger on his page to mark his place and let his eyes close. He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but he was so comfortable. 

Harry woke with a jolt to the sound of noises coming from Snape’s kitchen. A blanket had been carefully arranged over him, covering his body completely. Ganymede’s book had been put back on the table, although Harry was sure he’d fallen asleep with it in his hands. The blanket tingled against his skin in that way he now recognised as being Snape’s magic. Snape had transfigured this blanket for him. 

‘Oh, good, you’re awake,” Snape said, coming into the room whilst a large tray floated behind him. The tray set itself down on the table and Harry got a strong whiff of the citrusy tea that Snape had always given him in the past. He licked his dry lips in anticipation and then yawned. “I see you have been reading the Gaunt book.”

Snape paused and Harry half expected him to make some cutting remark about how Harry had fallen asleep reading it. Instead, Snape just looked slightly embarrassed.

“Now that,” Snape continued in a quieter tone, “That you know what will happen to you -” 

“You mean Heats?” Harry interrupted. He should have tried harder to read more of Ganymede’s book, but it had been so pleasant to be back in Snape’s sitting room. “When? When will I have a Heat again?”

Snape sat forward on the sofa and rather primly began to pour out the tea.

“Gaunt is not the most reliable of sources. We cannot know for certain. It is believed that there was a great deal of variance between individuals and the strength and duration of a Heat depended on the health of the omega in question. I assume that, as you have been starving yourself on your expedition, was why this heat was so mild.”

“Mild?” Harry choked. He’d thought he might die. 

“On average, omegas went into Heat every 3 months with Heats lasting multiple days. We are fortunate to have been spared that.” 

Harry pulled the blanket up, covering himself almost completely. 

“Yeah, fortunate,” Harry said, trying not to sound bitter. Just because the sex had been a necessity rather than something that either of them would have chosen that didn’t mean that Snape had to rub it in at every opportunity. 

“I mean,” Snape said slowly, as if he thought Harry was being idiotically slow. “That it is fortunate that I was not absent from my post for so long that it was remarked upon.”

“Hmm,” Harry muttered as Snape passed him a cup of tea. As he reached out to take it, the blanket slipped off Harry’s shoulder and he saw Snape’s eyes flicker down to look at Harry’s exposed neck. He was, Harry realised, looking at the bonding mark there. He was usually so careful about doing up his shirt buttons, but he’d been so sleepy that morning that he hadn’t bothered. Harry turned awkwardly so that Snape couldn’t see the bonding mark. “Where’s Hermione? Can I see her?” Harry asked, changing the subject quickly. He was sure that Snape would have made certain Hermione would be safe.

“You may not. She is in Australia, tracking down her parents and removing that idiotic Memory Charm.” 

“What? What gave you the right to do that?” Harry yelped, almost spilling his tea.

“The same right that she had to cast Memory Charms on her own parents. Such Charms become more damaging the longer that they are left in place. Besides which, Britain is no longer safe for muggleborns. She is student playing truant, not a soldier.” 

“What did you do to her?” Harry asked in outrage. 

“I put a Suggestion in her mind that she should seek out her parents and that she would be able to serve the cause of the Light best if she remained in hiding in Australia. The Suggestion will break once she learns that Dark Lord is dead.” 

“What if…?” Harry trailed off.

“If the Dark Lord remains unvanquished then Australia may soon become the one place safe for muggleborns.”

“No, I mean. what if I kill him but she doesn’t hear about it -”

“Harry,” Snape smiled in a way that wasn’t quite a smirk, as if he were amused by Harry rather than just sneering at him. “If the Dark Lord is defeated then there will not be a corner of the world that does not celebrate his death.”

Harry privately disagreed but kept that to himself. It was rather nice to make Snape smile, it was such a rare thing that he didn’t want to be the reason he stopped smiling. Anyway, if Snape’s Suggestion didn’t break Harry could always go to Australia himself and get Hermione back. He took a sip of tea and nodded

“Now,” Snape took a plate of sandwiches from the tray he’d brought in and put it on the table in front of Harry, “It is lunchtime and we have things that must be discussed. Dumbledore believed that you were a Horcrux. As an omega it is impossible for you to still be one, but we should make certain. Have you tried to talk to a snake since you became an omega?”

Harry shook his head dumbly. He lifted his hand and rubbed at his scar gingerly, suddenly glad that he was an omega. 

“I doubt that you are still a parseltongue, but we should make certain. _Serpensortia,_ ” Snape whispered the spell and a tiny snake popped into existence on the coffee table. It was no larger than Harry’s little finger and was, by far, the sweetest looking snake that Harry had ever seen. 

“Hello,” Harry said, looking at the little snake. To his ears it sounded like he was speaking English, but he could never differentiate between the two languages himself. He glanced up and saw that Snape was smiling at him. It wasn’t a large smile, more a subtle twist of his lips than anything else. But it didn’t look mocking or sarcastic. “I’m speaking English?”

Snape nodded, his face becoming thoughtful. 

“Did you ever wonder if Parseltongue gives you the ability to talk to snakes, or if it gives snakes the ability to talk to you?”

“Er,” Harry frowned, not sure what Snape meant.

“Do you suppose that snakes are sentient creatures, able to talk to one another all the time. That they always have thoughts and emotions and Parseltongue merely gives you a skill that enables you to understand their language. Because if that is true, and snakes are sentient, then how can we know what other animals are sentient? Perhaps cows and pigs and chickens are as well, and we are monsters for devouring them, unable to understand their pleas for mercy. Or, perhaps, by speaking in Parseltongue, you are giving the snake a sentience that it would not otherwise have,” Snape shrugged and reached for his cup of tea whilst Harry sat in stunned silence. He’d never even considered that possibility, but now he felt like an idiot for not thinking about all this. 

Snape, whatever else Harry thought about him, was a very intelligent man. Harry licked his lips slowly, watching Snape’s throat as he swallowed his tea. 

“I think,” Harry began, feeling a little queasy, “That I should become a vegetarian.”

Snape sniffed waspishly as he put his teacup back in its saucer with a rattle of china. 

“If you must. It’s only a theory and I have no intention of denying myself meat just because of a supposition that it is theoretical and unprovable.”

“No, but, what if you’re right?”

“Harry,” Snape said, his voice calming when Harry had expected it be annoyed. “Now is hardly the time. How many other Horcruxes are there?”

“S -” Harry began to answer automatically before he could stop himself. “Don’t you know already?”

Snape pulled something from his waistcoat pocket and let it fall through his fingers, until the chain caught on his fingers and stopped the locket from falling to the ground. The locket swung pendulously in the air. The large S glittered in the firelight. Harry had the maddest urge to leap up and snatch it from Snape’s fingers. 

“This is one, isn’t it, Harry?”

“Severus,” Harry began. Even after finding out that Snape had never betrayed the Order, after spending Harry’s Heat together, it still felt wrong to see the Horcrux in Snape’s hands and Harry would do anything to get it back. 

“It feels like him. It bleeds Dark Magic. I’m surprised you could bear to touch it.”

“Severus,” Harry began again, reaching out his hand and sidling closer to Snape. 

“I can destroy it, you know, right now. This very minute. Would that finally prove my loyalty to you?”

Harry hesitated. Snape had so many secrets; he’d known Harry’s mum, yet he’d never even mentioned her to Harry. In his Pensieve he’d called her his best friend, yet he’d also called her a Mudblood. How could Harry trust Snape when he didn’t tell him things?

“If you know how to destroy it, then tell me. I’ll do it.”

Snape twisted the locket around his hand as Harry’s eyes tracked its every movement. With a final, flourishing, snap of his wrist, the locket disappeared.

“Wait here,” Snape commanded, standing quickly and leaving. Harry clenched his fist. He knew he should have tried to grab the Horcrux as soon as he’d seen it. Seconds later, Snape came barging back into the room with the sword of Gryffindor in his hands. 

“Where did you get that?” Harry asked in astonishment. 

“I acquired it through an act of bravery. The Dark Lord believes that the original is under his control and safely stashed in the vaults of Gringott’s, but I gave him a copy and retained the original.”

“Why?”

“Because, Harry,” Snape said, taking Slytherin’s locket from him pocket, “I knew that this sword had the power to destroy Horcruxes.”

Harry grinned. The weight of his own failure to find all the Horcruxes, or to even destroy the one that he had recovered, had been bearing him down for so long. Now, finally, he was making progress and it didn’t matter that it was here with Snape, instead of with Hermione. 

“But,” Harry bit his lip, “That means you’ll have to destroy it. The Sword won’t work properly for me. You can’t just give it to me.” Not, he noted bitterly, that Snape looked like he had any intention of giving Harry the Sword. 

Snape kicked the rug in front of the fireplace out of the way, exposing the flagstones underneath and put the locket on the floor.

“You’re going to do it now? Here?” Harry stood up, but Snape blocked his path. 

“Can you think of any reason to delay?”

Harry peered around Snape to look at the locket, lying so innocently on the floor. 

“No, no, I suppose not.”

“Stand back,” Snape said, giving Harry a firm push and then raising the Sword above his head. The back of Harry’s knees hit the edge of the sofa and he sank down, watching Snape avidly. The Sword swung through air, but Snape wasn’t moving it forcefully. The tip of the Sword touched the locket and the Horcrux opened with a loud click. Thick black smoke poured out of it, swirling upwards with unnatural speed until it had formed two columns that were roughly Harry’s height.

The two smoke figures become clearer, their features quickly taking shape. One of them was Ginny Weasley and the other was Harry himself. The Smoke Ginny smiled at Snape and then stepped towards the fake Harry. The two figures looked so intimate that Harry felt uncomfortable even watching this. He shifted in his seat and the leather creaked, but Snape didn’t seem to notice. He was watching, riveted, as Smoke Ginny leaned up and kissed Smoke Harry on the lips. Smoke Harry closed his eyes, looking like he enjoyed the kiss far more than Harry had ever enjoyed Ginny’s kisses. 

Ginny turned to smirk at Snape whilst Smoke Harry slung an arm around Ginny’s shoulders and sneered at Snape. 

“You don’t honestly think,” the fake Harry began, in an eery facsimile of Harry’s voice, “That I would ever, could ever, truly desire you? I’ll never want you when I’m in my right mind. There’s nothing that you could offer me that would make me want to stay with you.”

Ginny suddenly changed, growing taller and her hair lightening, until the figure turned into Draco Malfoy. Smoke Harry’s belly grew and the fake Malfoy put a possessive hand on Harry’s obviously pregnant belly.

“You might be the only one that can give him a child,” Malfoy sneered, “But even that won’t be enough to tempt him to stay with you.”

Smoke Harry giggled in a spiteful way that Harry didn’t think he was even capable of. 

“Draco’s young and rich and much, much better looking than you!”

The Sword swung through the air a second time, hitting the locket with a loud, reverberating bang. There was a flash of light and, when the glow faded, he saw Snape stood over the smouldering mound of metal, leaning down and panting as if he’d run a mile. Harry looked away. He felt like an intruder. Yet again he’d become privy to Snape’s personal thoughts and feelings and he didn’t know what to make of them. One thing was clear: Snape took the bond between them far more seriously than Harry ever had. To Harry, sex and marriage were things done for love. He didn’t love Snape, but he’d slept with him, and he knew that Snape considered their relationship as something akin to an arranged marriage. Harry was sure that Snape didn’t actually love him, but he was committed to him, in a way that no adult had ever been before. Snape, for all his bitterness, would never turn his back on Harry, never give up or walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I had something of a personal tragedy and I've been away from writing for a while. I wasn't terribly happy with this chapter but, with my delay, its been so long since I posted that I just wanted to get it up.


	14. Chapter 14

Severus let go of the sword. It clattered to the ground, but Severus seemed fixated with the smouldering mess that was all that remained of the locket. 

At any other time Harry would have yelled in happiness to see that damned locket destroyed. Now, though, he was horribly aware of the things that the Horcrux had said to Severus. 

“I’ve never liked Malfoy,” Harry said quietly. The words felt stupid, it wasn’t like he owed Severus an explanation, but Harry’s mind was blank and he didn’t know what else to say. Severus turned sharply, his pale face swiftly turning to anger. “Never.”

Severus made a low noise in his throat, his face becoming red as his lips twisted in bitterness. Harry shrunk back. Not even when Severus had caught him kissing Ginny Weasley had Harry actually been afraid of Severus, but right now, with Severus’ burning eyes fixed on him and that deep, inhuman growl coming from his mouth, Harry couldn’t stop himself from flinching away. Severus reacted at once; the noise stopped instantly, but the man himself remained still as Harry gazed uncomfortably up at him. 

With a sudden swirl of his robes, Severus turned away, leaving the quarters without either a backward word or glance. The door snicked quietly as Severus closed the door behind him, leaving Harry alone on the sofa. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the things that the Horcrux had shown Severus. Slowly, his lips moving almost of their own volition, Harry smiled. They had destroyed a Horcrux and, yes, it had been uncomfortable and awkward, but they had done it! His grin widened and he looked around happily. He almost wished that Severus had stayed around so that they could celebrate. Not that he could really imagine what celebrating with Severus would entail. 

With a grin still firmly plastered to his face, he got up and went to the kitchen, without any particular purpose in mind. 

“Aggy?” he called out softly to Severus’ house elf. There was no answer; no house elf magically appeared. Harry shrugged and opened one of the kitchen cupboards. Inside were glass jars full of dried leaves, a few jars had dried flowers in them. Harry snorted to himself, Severus stored his Potion ingredients everywhere. He opened the next cupboard and found a worn looking Brown Betty teapot, there were a few chips along the handle and Harry wondered why Severus had never used magic to fix them. 

Just then he heard a door open and he turned in surprise to see a house elf stepping into the kitchen through the small doorway that was the perfect size for a house elf. Harry smiled at the creature, feeling slightly stupid for forgetting that this was how Aggy had entered the kitchen the time that Severus had called for her. 

The house elf’s wide, protuberant eyes looked up at him carefully. He’d never seen a house elf that looked so calm; there was none of Dobby’s mindless devotion in her eyes, or the zealousness of the kitchen house elves. 

“You is calling me, but you is not the Professor,” she said accusingly.

“No,” Harry said, closing the cupboard door behind him and giving Aggy his full attention. “Can I have…” Harry trailed off as he considered. Aggy glared at him with such open hostility that Harry’s grin sagged slightly. Hogwarts’ house elves were usually absolutely demented about getting him everything he could possibly need. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been in the presence of one this long and not been offered a treacle tart to eat. “Can I have a butterbeer, please?”

The house elf raised her fingers as if to click them, but then stopped, her hand still raised. 

“You is not the Professor, but you is the Professors,” she said and clicked her fingers loudly. A bottle of butterber and an empty glass appeared on the table before Harry heard the end of the house elf’s sentence. What did she think Harry was? The Professor's guest? His bondmate? Could house elves sense the magical bond between Severus and him? “Is you wanting anything else, sir?”

“No, this is brilliant. Thank you, Aggy,” Harry said. He was too happy about the Horcrux to let the house elf’s odd behaviour get him down. She gave a small curtsy that was nowhere near as deep as the one Harry had seen her give Severus. She didn’t, Harry noted with approval, seem to be upset that he had thanked her. Without another word, she turned and left through the small door in the corner of the kitchen, closing it behind her so that it, once again, looked more like a cupboard than a doorway. 

Harry picked up the bottle of butterbeer and, not bothering to pour it into the glass, took a deep swig. It had been ages since the last time he’d tasted butterbeer and he’d forgotten how delicious it was. The taste of butterscotch lingered on his tongue as he wandered back into Severus’ sitting room. Butterbeer was something that he always drank with Ron and Hermione, on their trips into Hogsmeade, or at Gryffindor parties. 

He took another deep swig and then went to look at charred, black mess on the floor that was all that remained of Slytherin’s locket. He poked it with his foot and wished he could tell Ron and Hermione about what had just happened. His school books were still piled on the coffee table and he glared at them before sinking into the sofa. It seemed bizarre to him that Severus expected him to study for his NEWTs at the same time as searching for Horcruxes. The man’s priorities were obviously terribly warped. Taking another sip of butterbeer, he picked up Ganymede Gaunt’s book and opened it up. He flicked through the pages, trying to find his place. Most of the book was taken up with just his letters, but in between each letter the author had written a few short paragraphs that summarised the letters and added context to them. Harry skipped quickly through those, only interested in what Ganymede had to say. Turning to a new page he found a letter he hadn’t read yet:

_My darling sister,_  
_Please forgive my delay in writing this letter. Father tells me that he informed you of what has happened. I have very little to add. My Heat is approaching and I have shut myself up in my room to write to you and to avoid conversation with either Father or Mr Ashcroft. I find myself sorely disappointed with both of them._

_Yesterday, as Father and I were sitting down to lunch, he told me that Mr Ashcroft would be arriving shortly and that we would bond immediately. It was, as you may imagine, a surprise. Mr Ashcroft, it transpired, is actually some years older than his portrait had led me to believe. He is approaching his sixtieth year. When I confronted Father about the discrepancy, he did not think it important._

_Mr Ashcroft took me into the gardens and asked me to bare my neck to him. His alpha scent was far stronger and more potent than I have ever found Father’s scent. I am embarrassed at how strong an inducement I found that. I bared my neck readily and he bit into my bonding gland. It was an experience unlike any other and whilst we bonded I ceased to notice his age. I confess I felt quite weak-kneed throughout the entire process._

_Afterwards the three of us, Mr Ashcroft, Father and myself, took some supper together and I learnt more of my new bondmate. He has a commanding personality. It is no less than Father had led me to expect and yet I find myself saddened. He is not a man that invites confidences and I felt no pleasure in his company._

_We are to stay with Father for one more night and then we shall go on to Mr Ashcroft’s estate. It is in north Wales and has a name that I can barely pronounce, Clefyd y Galon. Mr Ashcroft has said that I shall learn to say it correctly, in time._

_I would spare your blushes, dear sister, but I must confess my anxiety or I think I would go mad. Although Mr Ashcroft and I have not yet known each other, he has already spoken of his desire to have children. I was confused when he first mentioned it because I could not believe that Father would have knowingly bonded me to an alpha who would expect me to bear him children. Being an omega is a curse and I had long decided that I had no wish to risk giving that burden to another. However, Mr Ashcroft has every hope that I shall be with child after my first Heat._

_I despair, dear sister. Father protests that he believed that Mr Ashcroft to be a good match for me and even now he claims that I was naive to ever hope to bond to an alpha who would have the consideration that I had always hoped to find in a bondmate. Indeed, he is entirely dismissive of my concerns. I do not wish to upset you, but I can only contemplate my Heat or the prospect of a lifetime bonded to such an alpha as Mr Ashcroft, with utter dread._

_Your loving brother, Ganymede_

Harry closed the book, leaving his finger as a bookmark to keep his place and stared into the fire. Severus had suggested that Ganymede had had an unhappy life, but already things were not looking good for Ganymede. In some ways Ganymede’s situation was similar to Harry’s; they had both been bonded to older men who they wouldn’t have chosen for themselves. Of course, Ganymede had known far more about what it meant to be an omega. That knowledge hadn’t helped him; Mr Ashcroft sounded dreadful. 

Harry looked around, wondering if he should go in search of Severus. Experience had taught him that talking to an angry Snape was never a good idea. It would be better to just let him cool off for awhile, not that that approach had ever helped Harry in the past. When Snape had only been his professor, he had always been angry at Harry. This was a perfect opportunity to find out about being an omega, and he wasn’t going to waste it by worrying about Severus’ moods. He pulled the Transfigured blanket that Severus had left behind across his lap and re-opened the book to the next letter:

_Sweet sister,_  
_Please, I implore you, forgive me for the concern that I caused you with my last letter. I have to share with you my excitement. I have visited Diagon Alley! After all your tales of Wizarding London, I was overjoyed to finally have the chance to see the wonder of it for myself._

_We Apparated there, en route to Clefyd y Galon, as Mr Ashcroft wished to make some purchases, although I suspect that was not the only reason for our excursion. I had believed that I would pass unnoticed through the crowds, my scent now indistinguishable from that of an alpha’s. To my astonishment, I was recognised as an omega. Unbeknownst to me, Mr Ashcroft had put an announcement of our bonding into the Daily Prophet and Father had provided a photo for the newspaper. Neither had seen fit to warn me._

_Alphas crowded around me. I can only imagine the despair that one must feel as an alpha. It is a tragedy, but I am not the solution and, now that I am bonded, I am incapable of helping anyone. I can bond with no other. I cannot bear a child for any other alpha but my mate, even if I had the inclination to do so. Tempering my pity for them is the knowledge that they are brutish creatures. If I had left Father’s estate before my bonding I would have been torn asunder, a victim of the passions of whichever alpha happened upon me first. Even today, accompanied as I was by my bondmate, I thought that Mr Ashcroft would be forced into a physical altercation. It was most unsettling._

_Fortunately I did not let that spoil my enjoyment of the excursion. I even had the chance to buy you a small present, which I shall keep hold of until you are able to visit me in my new home._

_We visited Ollivander’s wand shop and Mr Ashcroft purchased a wand that I may use. Sister, it works so well! I am astounded at the difference between this new wand, and great-grandfather’s wand, which I always thought worked well enough for me. I was so pleased that I felt quite generous towards Mr Ashcroft, even though he would not let me explore the rest of Diagon Alley as I would have wished. Nonetheless, walking along those cobbles, and visiting the few shops that I did, was wonderful. If you had been there, instead of Mr Ashcroft, then I think it would have been the happiest day of my entire life. Afterwards, we went to Mr Ashcroft’s estate._

_Clefyd y Galon itself is a large estate in the midst of Snowdonia. It is a magical place, full of Old Magicks that hang so thick in the air that I’m sure even the Muggles must be able to sense it. It is also remote and desolate. The house seems to drain the heat from my bones and there is a dampness in the air that no amount of Charms seem to dispel. There is a beta housekeeper, however she speaks only Welsh and not a word of English. Mr Ashcroft assures me that I will learn the language quickly._

_I will write more soon. Your stories about Hogwarts bring such a lightness to my days, I do hope that you can find the time to write some more to me, Ganymede._

Harry quickly turned to the next letter, pausing only to take a small sip of his drink. He understood now what Horcrux version of Malfoy had meant when he’d said that only Severus could give Harry a child. Omegas could only conceive with their bonded alpha. It was good to know, but wasn’t really relevant to his situation. It wasn’t like he wanted children at all, no matter who the father was. He frowned in thought. He supposed Severus would be called the other father, because there was no way that Harry was going to call himself a mother!

He shrugged and read through the next letter. Ganymede gave more details of his lonely life in North Wales and asked his sister more questions about Hogwarts. Harry skimmed through it quickly but the following short letter caught his attention at once:

_Sister,_

_One of the hardest part of being an omega is that the physicality of my gender does not allow me any modesty. My stomach has begun to ache. It is my time and I have barely these last few hours before I am lost._

_I have quarreled again with Mr Ashcroft. There are no known spells or potions that hinder my own fecundity, but that is not an impediment that Mr Ashcroft shares. Yet he continues to refuse to use either spell or potion when the time comes. I am at a loss, fair sister. Words cannot describe how ardently I loath both the position that I find myself in and the alphas that put me here. If I could leave Clefyd y Galon I would, but there are anti-apparition wards that cover all the grounds which can only be broken by Mr Ashcroft himself. They are old wards that will fall only in the direst of emergencies. The boundaries are all so heavily warded that none may pass through them without Mr Ashcroft’s permission. I am as trapped here as I was in my Father’s home._

_Ganymede_

Harry gaped down at the page and then quickly turned to the next page. Looking back on it, he was almost relieved that he hadn’t known about his own Heat. He would have been dreading it, although it sounded like Ganymede was going to have a far worse time than Harry had had:

_First and foremost, I must entreat you, darling sister, to refrain from speaking of what I write to either Father or Mr Ashcroft, when you meet him. I do not wish to involve you in any of this. I tell you these things because you are my confidant and if I cannot trust your silence then I will cease to make you privy to my travails._

_My heat came upon me._

_It was unbearable. It was primitive and savage and every nightmare that I expected it to be. Mr Ashcroft, despite his age, has all the strength of any full-bodied alpha. I can say no more besides to tell you of the aftermath. After two full days of Heat, I cooled and found myself covered in wounds. I bled. My bonding bite, a magical scar that healed within seconds of Mr Ashcroft first giving it to me, had been re-opened. I do not know how to get it to close again. My arm was broken, although i do not remember sustaining such an injury._

_But these are trivial things. Mr Ashcroft, true to his word, used no form of contraception. Perhaps I was deluding myself, but I never gave up on the hope that he would have a last minute change of heart. Alas, sister, I am with child._

_I have no legal recourse, no shelter that I may flee to, G_

Harry closed the book, sickened by what he’d just read. Ganymede’s story was terrible. He felt nothing but sympathy for the other young omega, and it was scary to think how similar their situations could have been. How could Dumbledore, who claimed to have loved Harry, have turned him into an omega when this was what had happened to the last omega? Because, his traitorous mind whispered, Dumbledore had always trusted Severus, despite what anyone else had said, or the murkiest of rumours, Dumbledore’s trust had never wavered. Harry stood up quickly and went in search of Severus. 

He stepped outside Severus’ front door and into the narrow corridor. The doors to Severus’ office and to Dumbledore’s quarters were both closed. Harry tried the door to the Headmaster’s office, but the knob wouldn’t even twist in his hand. Had Severus locked him up, just like Ashcroft had locked up young Ganymede? Harry turned his head and put his ear to the door. 

“And what will you do when a child dies?” a female voice asked. Harry could hear her as clearly as if he were standing in the room. It was Professor McGonagall. She was next door, in the Headmaster’s office, and she believed the Severus was the Death Eater that had murdered Dumbledore. “It will happen, it’s only a matter of time.”

“You have always been prone to melodrama, Minerva,” Severus drawled maliciously. “Perhaps the strain of professional life has become too much for you in your old age.”

Harry could only imagine the look on McGonagall’s face at this moment. A third, unknown, person in the Headmaster’s office snorted loudly. 

“Do you find that amusing, Wormtail?” Severus asked lazily, “You could ask the Dark Lord if he would allow you to become a teacher here. It’s obvious he has no other use for you, and you have always been a shining example of the brave Gryffindor, wouldn’t you agree, Minerva? He could be the new Head of Gryffindor.”

“If you continue to allow students to practice the Dark Arts on their peers then there will be more incidents like this. The next time -”

“The next time this happens I expect you to do your job, instead of running to me to complain about the Hogwarts syllabus that was set out by the Dark Lord himself.”

“You can’t think this is right! How can you stand there, with _his_ portrait above your head? Severus -”

“Enough! You forget yourself. Leave us now before my patience grows thin.”

Harry shivered at the coldness of Severus’ voice. A door banged shut and he guessed that Professor McGonagall had left. He’d never really thought about what it meant to be a spy before, but it had to be difficult to have a colleague, someone who Severus had worked with for years, who had known him since he was a schoolboy, think that Severus had been lying all those years. That he really was Dumbledore’s murderer and any friendships he might have had with the other teachers had been entirely false. 

“You’re in a bad mood, hmm, Snape?” Wormtail asked, his greasy voice made Harry’s stomach turn. This was the man who had truly betrayed his parents; giving his supposed friends up to Voldemort. He wanted to burst the door down and wring the rat’s neck! “I think that’s rather funny, especially after what I just discovered.”

“I have always found incompetence frustrating. What is it that you are doing here, Wormtail? Were my instructions not clear to you?”

“I am not your servant! I won’t be made to wash your dirty laundry after you’ve been.. you’ve been..entertaining.”

Harry shuddered slightly, trying to keep still so that the door wouldn’t creak. Wormtail had seen the bedroom where he’d passed his Heat? Why? Had he been the house at the same time as Harry? What was Severus up to? Or had Severus been _entertaining_ someone else?

“My, my, I had no idea you were such a prude, Wormtail. After over a decade as a rat I would have thought there was no low to which you wouldn’t stoop. Nonetheless, I told you not to return to Spinner’s End whilst I was at Hogwarts. Surely this is not too difficult a concept for you to grasp?”

“I don’t take orders from you! The Dark Lord wants me in your Muggle hovel. He was...displeased when he learnt that you’d sent me away.”

“Poor Wormtail, it seems that, despite your best efforts, no-one still alive wants your company. I suppose that’s what happens, when you have everyone who ever called you their friend killed.”

Wormtail made a shrill, rat-like, squeak. 

“I think the Dark Lord would be very interested to hear about you, sneaking out of Hogwarts, shirking your duty just so you could...could rent some Knockturn Alley whore! Don’t think I don’t know what your kind gets up to!”

“My kind?” Severus asked mockingly.

Wormtail didn’t say another word, but Harry could hear scuffling noises. He wished he could see what was going on in the next room. 

“I Banished the sheets and, next time, I’ll Banish the bed as well, I mean it!”

“I’m sure you do, Wormtail, you’re a man of your word, after all.”

Wormtail made another high-pitched noise. Being a rat for so many years must have done something to his brain because those sounds were inhuman. 

“I will not be spoken to this way! I have the Dark Lord’s favour!”

Severus laughed, a low vindictive chuckle that didn’t sound at all amused. Harry heard a thud and then heavy footsteps thumping away. 

“I gave my hand to the Dark Lord, look! You can’t treat me like this!” Wormtail cried as Severus laughter faded. Immediately, there was the slam of a door being shut and Harry was sure that Wormtail had left. At the exact moment that the office door slammed shut, the door that Harry was leaning on gave way. The hinges groaned, and the door moved in its frame. If it hadn’t been latched, the door would have swung wide open.

Harry stepped back quickly, wondering if Severus would know that he’d been listening in. He hadn’t meant to intrude, he’d just wanted to know where Severus was and not feel trapped in the alpha’s quarters. 

Before Harry could do anything else, the small door was yanked open. Severus was standing there, his dark eyes watching Harry intently. When Harry had sneaked a look into Severus’ Pensieve after their Occlumency lesson, Severus had been so angry with him. His cold burning rage had gone on for ages; at the time Harry had been happy that Severus was ignoring him, but now he wasn’t sure that he could bear to be given the silent treatment by his nearest ally. 

“Erm, hi.”

Severus stood aside and waved Harry into the Headmaster’s office with a flick of his wrist. 

“Is it alright to come in here?” Harry asked, worried that Wormtail might come stomping back into the Headmaster’s office. “I mean, what if someone sees me here?”

“Auspex Exclusion,” Severus answered curtly as he turned to take his seat behind the Headmaster’s desk. 

Harry glared at the back of Severus’ head, noting dispassionately how clean Severus’ hair looked in the light of the Headmaster’s office. 

“What does that mean?”

Severus looked round, smirking gleefully and yet not quite meeting Harry’s eyes. 

“It means that you will be unable to open that door when there is anyone else apart from myself in this office. Conversely, no-one else will be able to enter the Headmaster’s office whilst you are in here. It is a fairly rudimentary Charm that the Seventh Years have already studied this term. If you applied yourself, and chose to study for your NEWTs, then you could understand the principles of an Auspex Exclusion Spell for yourself.”

Harry hummed noncommittally. He was just relieved that Severus didn’t seem to be blaming him for the things the Horcrux had said; Harry definitely wasn’t going to mention what had happened earlier, he wasn’t suicidal. The talk of spellcasting made him think of his own wand. Severus still hadn’t given it back to him. Usually Harry couldn’t be apart from his wand for more than a few minutes without getting anxious, but it had entirely slipped his mind as he’d made himself comfortable in Severus’ quarters. 

“Where’s my wand?”

Severus looked up in astonishment as if he had expected Harry to have somehow got his wand back by himself. 

“It’s in the drawer of your bedside table.”

Harry scowled, sensing that Severus was toying with him. There hadn’t been a bedside table next to Dumbledore’s bed. 

“In our quarters,” Severus continued. Harry blinked at the implications of what Severus had just said. 

“You expect me to sleep in your bed?” Harry said in surprise. He had noticed the way Severus kept on referring to his quarters as _their_ quarters, but he hadn’t expected Severus to go this far. 

“Where else?” Severus asked snidely. He might not be taking his earlier anger out on Harry but the emotions were still there, just below the surface. The man’s temper was short at the best of times. 

“Where I slept last night was fine,” Harry said. He wasn’t sure that it was fine. Dumbledore’s bed had been comfortable, but it wouldn’t feel right using his bed again; not now that he knew who it belonged to. It seemed disrespectful somehow. 

“Was it?”

Harry’s eyes wandered up the length of Severus’ shiny hair, up the wall behind him and up further, inexorably further, until he found himself gazing at Dumbledore’s snoozing portrait. The old Headmaster looked so peaceful as he softly snored. 

“I can sleep on the sofa,” Harry said mulishly, unable to look away from the portrait. Dumbledore snored slightly too loudly, his head shaking slightly as if he’d woken himself up. Harry bit his lip, preparing himself for Dumbledore’s portrait to awaken, but it didn’t. After a few seconds, the portrait began to snore again, without waking up at all. 

“That is your decision,” Severus said with a flick of his hair. “Make no mistake, the events surrounding your Heat were exceptional. I have no expectations of them being repeated under ordinary circumstances. Sharing a bed would not necessitate any kind of physical intimacy.”

Harry wavered. He’d spent so many nights sleeping in an uncomfortable tent, the prospect of a comfortable bed where he could cocoon himself in Severus’ scent without having to touch the man, was appealing. The tent that he’d shared with Ron and Hermione had been cramped and he’d got used to sharing a small space. Severus’ bed was so large that he’d be able to spread himself out and still not have to touch the other man. 

Harry looked away, as a stray memory from his Heat popped into his head. He suddenly remembered, with perfect clarity, the way a drop of sweat had formed on Severus’ forehead as he’d panted and pushed his way inside Harry. He wished he could just forget about his Heat.

“Maybe.”

Severus let out a breath that wasn’t quite a sigh. 

“Sit,” Severus picked up his wand and Conjured a chair for Harry in front of his desk. The straight backed, winged armchair was dark green leather and would have fit perfectly Severus’ sitting room. “I would like to know more about the remaining Horcruxes. You have been in hiding all autumn, how much progress did you make?”

“Well…” Harry leaned back in his seat. Severus leaned forward over the desk.

“Why don’t you begin,” Severus dropped his voice, “By telling me about the meetings you had last year with Albus. You would come up to this office and remain here for hours on end.”

Harry glanced up at Dumbledore’s portrait. In the Pensieve message that Dumbledore had left for Harry, he’d seemed so sure that Severus and Harry would be together. He’d even said that he didn’t want to cause a rift between Harry and his alpha. That had to mean that Dumbledore expected Harry to trust Severus completely, but if that were true, why hadn’t Dumbledore told Severus about Horcruxes himself?

He hung his head. He didn’t want to betray Dumbledore, but he wanted to be honest with Severus. After all, Severus was intelligent and capable and he had already shown himself to enormously useful at destroying Horcruxes. 

“Alright, if,” Harry said slowly. “If you tell me how you know about Horcruxes,” Severus nodded his head once as Harry hid his surprise at Severus’ easy acquiescence. 

“I was not completely certain that it was indeed Horcruxes that you had been searching for. It was only when I felt the locket that I knew for certain; and then, of course, you confirmed it this morning. Albus never told me the truth of it but I had suspected that the Dark Lord had made himself Horcruxes for some time. There was the soul fragment that resided in your scar. The act of murder splinters a soul, but it would not cause it to fly loose and embed in someone else, as happened to the Dark Lord, unless he had already prepared himself with spells and rituals. I realised that he went to Godric’s Hollow that night intending to make a Horcrux. I would have suspected that that was his only one, except I had already seen the damage that Albus had done to his hand. Albus...Albus abhorred Dark Magic and his ability to sense magical signatures was very strong. When I first learnt of his injury, I could not understand what had possessed him to touch a ring so obviously cursed, yet it made more sense once I began to consider that he was searching for Horcruxes. As my suspicions mounted I searched for more information in Hogwarts library. All the books that made mention of Horcruxes, which I had read about as a student, had been removed from the shelves. That in itself was, I thought, rather revealing.”

Harry looked up, over Severus’ head and thought he saw Dumbledore’s eyes were open a crack, but then the portrait snored and Harry assumed he’d been mistaken. From the way that Severus had been talking earlier, Harry had got the impression that the man was going to try and take control over the search for Horcruxes. Now it sounded like Severus was actually willing to share information with him, that they would be working together as equals. 

“Why was it that Dumbledore originally began to suspect Horcruxes?”

“Oh, erm,” Harry licked his lips slowly before deciding that he would tell Severus everything. It wasn’t like there was anyone else left that he could turn to. “In my second year, Riddle’s diary was a Horcrux.”

“The diary?” Severus leaned back, steepling his fingers together. “Albus was always rather vague about the events surrounding the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. It was a diary that was manipulating Miss Weasley?” There was the faintest trace of scorn as he said Ginny’s name. “Have you destroyed it yet?”

“Yeah, I mean, I destroyed it back then. Although not before Tom Riddle came out and started talking to me.”

Severus, Harry noted, was already familiar with the name Tom Riddle. 

“How many others have you destroyed?” Severus asked quickly.

“None. Well, I don’t even know what all the other Horcruxes are, or where they are. When I used to come up here, when Dumbledore,” Harry paused, expecting Severus to correct him and make him say Professor Dumbledore, but Severus was too busy looking wearily at his desk. “Explained about Horcruxes, he thought that Riddle would choose specific objects and that he would hide them in places that were important to him. So, he used Slytherin’s locket and he hid it in a cave that he visited as a child -”

“As a child?” Severus interjected quickly, “What about his childhood would the Dark Lord care to commemorate?”

Harry frowned. It was beginning to become clear that Severus knew quite a bit about Riddle, and Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Surely Voldemort didn’t tell all his followers these details about himself. Just how close was Severus to Voldemort? 

“It was a place where he tortured some of the other orphans.”

Severus nodded in understanding, as if Harry’s explanation actually made sense. 

“Or the ring,” Harry continued, “It belonged to Salazar Slytherin, and Riddle hid it in the Gaunt family home.”

“Surely the Dark Lord has no interest in omegas?” Severus asked, looking up quickly, his hair shimmering as he moved.

“No,” Harry shook his head, his mouth was getting dry from talking so much. When it had just been him and Hermione in the tent, there had been a lot of silence. “Not because of Ganymede. The Gaunts were the last descendants of Salazar. Riddle’s mother was a Gaunt.”

“Albus has told you a lot about the early life of the Dark Lord.”

The statement was said so neutrally that Harry wasn’t sure what Severus meant. 

“I suppose, I mean, it’s all relevant to the search. The more I understand him the easier it will be to find the Horcruxes.”

“How many more are we looking for?”

Harry paused at the use of _we_ ; he supposed that Severus deserved to know but it still felt odd to share what he’d always considered his secret mission. He could still remember what it felt like to have Severus inside him, pushed so deeply that it had felt like Severus was a part of him. 

Severus had left so much of Dumbledore’s office the same as it had been before his death; all the little trinkets and curios were still scattered around the place, still ticking away as Harry hesitated. Just because they’d had sex that didn’t change anything, not really. This was still his ex-teacher who’d treated him like shit for years, this was a member of the Order and he could trust him because they were both trying to destroy Voldemort. Severus rested one hand on the desk, his index finger tapping silently. 

“He wants his soul to be in seven pieces.”

Severus’ tapping finger stopped, already raised.

“A magical number indeed.”

“Yeah,” Harry muttered, “That’s what Slughorn thought as well.”

Severus cocked his head thoughtfully, once again not correcting Harry when he called a teacher by his surname. 

“Professor Slughorn is not a Death Eater,” Severus said, his words drawn out carefully so that Harry wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question. He’d forgotten that Severus did that and it reminded Harry of the time they’d spent together, getting to know one another, just after they’d bonded.

“No, I know. He was hiding from Riddle before he came to Hogwarts. When he was a teacher here, Riddle asked him about splitting his soul into seven.”

“And Slughorn told him how to?” Severus asked sharply, his eyes flashing menacingly.

“Noo,” Harry’s stomach gave an odd flutter. He should have eaten more breakfast that morning. “He just confirmed that it was possible.”

“Indeed,” Severus picked up his wand and tapped the desk. “So, in total there have been eight soul fragments. The one that resides within the Dark Lord; the fragment that he unknowingly cast into you; the diary; the ring; the locket; and we must search for the remaining three,” Severus summed up. As he finished talking, a tea tray appeared on the desk between them, popping silently into existence. Harry had seen Dumbledore do the same thing but, when Dumbledore used to do it, the magic had worked instantaneously. “And our only clue is that these three objects will be related to Slytherin and hidden in places that are significant for the Dark Lord.”

“No, not just Slytherin. Riddle found Hufflepuff’s cup, he killed the witch who owned it, framed her house-elf and then stole it. And his snake is another Horcrux too,” Harry grinned suddenly. It actually felt good to tell Severus about this. He’d spent so long thinking about Horcruxes that it was nice to finally talk to someone who’d already shown that they were capable of helping him. Severus picked up the teapot and poured out a single cup of tea, handing it to Harry wordlessly.

“Er, thanks,” Harry muttered, taking the tea by the saucer. Severus’ fingers grazed against his and Harry thought suddenly of Ganymede, trapped in a bond he hadn’t chosen. Harry would never have chosen Severus, if he’d had any say in it either, and just because it seemed to be going well just at this minute didn’t mean that he could assume anything. 

Severus poured himself a cup of tea and sipped the piping hot tea thoughtfully. 

“Nagini?” Severus said with a frown. In a certain light, if Severus was expressionless, then he could look, not handsome, but not outright ugly, Harry thought. But, when he frowned, his face sort of scrunched up making his nose even more prominent. It was a distinctly ugly look. And then there was the way his face scrunched when he came. That was unattractive as well. Harry looked down and blew over his tea to cool it down.

“Yeah, that’s what Dumbledore thought,” Harry said, noticing the half-turn of Severus’ head at the old Headmaster’s name, as if he’d been about to turn to Dumbledore’s portrait and ask the man himself. 

“Albus’ portrait has been talkative since the night he died. It’s rather surprising to see him this quiet. I’m sure that he can let me know his thoughts on Horcruxes, when he wakes up,” Severus said snidely, giving Harry the impression that Severus thought that Dumbledore was faking his afternoon nap. 

One of the trinkets on Severus’ desk made a sudden, loud chiming noise. He slapped it gently with an annoyed breath.

“We shall have to end this discussion here, for now. I have to leave you. The Carrows need to be supervised and then taken to the Great Hall for supper.” Severus stood up, looking expectantly at Harry.

“OK,” Harry said, not sure what Severus was getting at. It wasn’t like Harry could openly walk around Hogwarts. Severus curled in his lip but refrained from whatever barbed comment was on the tip of his tongue. 

Severus left, leaving Harry alone to finish his tea. It was the same citrusy tea that Severus had always served him and it made Harry feel better about everything; the Horcrux hunt was finally back on track, Ganymede’s situation had been terrible but it was a thousand times worse than Harry’s. His Heat was over and he didn’t have to think about it right now; or worry about the fact that he was now somehow capable of getting pregnant. He drained his teacup and set it back on the tea tray. As he stood up to head back to Severus’ quarters, he happened to glance up. Dumbledore’s portrait was awake. 

“Good afternoon, Harry,” the portrait said gently. Harry started, his jaw clenching. “It makes me very happy, Harry, to see the two of you working together so amicably.”

Harry tried to relax his mouth, trying to get some words out. He missed the old Headmaster so much, and that sense of security that had come from knowing that someone as intelligent and powerful as Dumbledore was in charge. He wanted to ask what Dumbledore thought about Ganymede’s story, and why Dumbledore hadn’t told him more about being an omega, but there was a lump in his throat and he couldn’t find his voice. 

“Sir,” he whispered into the air, but Dumbledore didn’t seem to expect any more from him. He gave Harry a cheery nod but Harry turned, feeling like a coward, as he walked back towards Severus’ quarters. 

He went straight to Severus’ bedroom and, sure enough, his wand was indeed in the drawer of the bedside table. It was resting on top of the Prince’s potion book. Harry hummed quietly to himself. He supposed Severus really wanted him to do well in Potions. Maybe Severus even felt guilty for the way he’d treated Harry for all those years, and he had once told Severus that he read the Prince’s book in bed. He flicked through it, easily finding the page he was looking for; the recipe for the Lust Dampening Spell. At the bottom of the recipe were the words that had given Harry so much comfort over the summer. _Any alpha that needs this should be gelded. Stupid knotheads._

The Prince had given him so much good advice over the last year; Harry wished, and not for the first time, that he could actually talk to the Prince in person. He put the book back in the drawer and went to sitting room. He tidied up the mess left behind by the Horcrux, putting the blackened remains on the mantelpiece and straightening the rug.

He flopped down on the sofa, his school books in front of him as well as Ganymede’s book. Looking at the cover of that book reminded him of the revulsion he’d felt earlier. Just because Harry was lucky that Severus wasn’t using the bond to obviously abuse him, like Ashcroft had done to Ganymede, that did not that everything was alright. Harry hadn’t had a choice in any of this and that was unforgivable. He sighed. He just couldn’t find it in himself to be angry at Dumbledore when he’d only made Harry into an omega because he hadn’t wanted Harry to die. 

Picking up the Transfiguration textbook that was at the top of the stack, a piece of folded parchment fell out and onto Harry’s lap. He unfolded it and saw it was a list of all the homework assignments that had been set of over the last term for each NEWT subject that he studied. Severus had written out this list so that Harry would know what to study. 

Harry leaned back, his eyes still on the parchment. Severus had once told him that their bond would break, that they would only have to maintain it for a year or so. He supposed that had been a lie too, just as the every other chance of breaking the bond had been a lie. 

At the bottom of the pile, underneath all the books, was some parchment and a Self-Inking Quill. 

He got down on to the floor, crossing his legs so the table was at the right height for him to write on. He wasn’t in the mood to do homework assignments, or to look through all these books to try and catch up on the last three months of lessons. Instead, he sucked the end of the quill and stared at the blank page. 

What he really wanted was to talk to someone. He wanted to tell someone about what was happening to him. He wanted to talk about what had happened during his Heat, and he wanted to sort out how he felt about Severus. What he really needed was an intelligent friend. Harry took the quill from his mouth and began to write. 

_Dear Hermione,_

Harry let his quill rest on the paper, so that the comma after Hermione’s name became a large splodge of ink. Writing to Hermione was a stupid idea. He’d never actually be able to send the letter to her, but he missed just being able to chat. 

_I’m sorry_

Harry stopped to chew his quill. He wasn’t sure what he was apologising for. He was sorry that she was in Australia; he missed her company, but he was also glad that she was out of harms way. She would not be another person who died protecting him from Voldemort. 

He was sorry that he hadn’t been able to tell her about becoming an omega; he was sorry that he’d isolated himself from his friends. Even if it were possible to actually send this letter to her, he couldn’t possibly explain about whatever was going on between him and Severus. He wasn’t sure he could even explain why Professor Snape had become Severus to him. Harry didn’t know much about other alphas, but it seemed to him that every other alpha was more aggressive than Severus. Even a Weasley could be corrupted by being an alpha. 

He crossed out the start of his letter and pulled Ganymede’s book towards him, opening it up and easily finding his page. 

_Darling Sophia,  
I have been selfish, dragging my woes into your life. I want you to have all the freedoms that any other beta enjoys. Your schoolwork is the most important thing; far more important than my complaints. You must stay at Hogwarts. There is nothing else to be done; I will hear no more plans to release me from my bondage. We would not fare long on the run. The Aurors would track us down, and I would be returned to Mr Ashcroft and you would be taken to Azkaban. _

_I once dared believe that Wizengamot would change the Omega Laws, once it became known that there is one last remaining omega. They are insidious Laws from a time when magic was used more for cruelty than kindness. It is grotesque that Wizards once cast a spell so powerful that, even now, it clings to my magic, proscribing my will. I believed that no modern wizard could truly support the inhumanity of those Laws. Mr Ashcroft has disabused me of that notion. There are too many alphas on the Wizengamot, and they have no interest in changing the law. Those betas who have no natural bias have been bribed, or so Mr Ashcroft claims. He tells me that thousands of Galleons have been spent to ensure that the Omega Laws remain in place. This is why we cannot do anything rash. It is true that I am unhappy; but my situation is new. In time, I will adjust. My greatest fear is tarnishing your good name._

_Now, tell me more about your last Potions class. Exploding cauldrons sound terribly dangerous, why would anybody tamper with someone else’s potion? That doesn’t sound like it would be amusing at all! Ganymede_

Harry finished reading the letter and sighed. In some ways, he and Ganymede were so similar. Harry wouldn’t have wanted his sister, or anyone, risking going to Azkaban just to help him. The Omega Laws had to be the laws that Severus and Dumbledore had both referred to; the mediaeval ones that dictated what Harry’s legal standing as an omega was. Harry didn’t like to think about those laws. Dumbledore had told him they were irrelevant to him and, apart from Severus mentioning the Laws in a fit of anger, they hadn’t had any bearing on his life. 

Still, it was terrible that those Laws had effected Ganymede. 

Just then the door opened. Harry tensed, his hand going for his wand instantly. Severus strode into the room. When he saw that Harry’s wand was out, and pointed at him, he gave a satisfied nod of his head. Harry lowered his wand slowly as Severus came round the sofa, looked down at him and scowled.

“Having a productive evening, are you, Harry?” Severus drawled, his eyes on the almost completely blank sheet of parchment that Harry had intended to write to Hermione on. Harry opened his mouth to make some equally sarcastic comment back to him but Severus was already turning away. 

“It isn’t necessary to study for your NEWTs for the exam, although that is what Hogwarts students are told; but because they are life skills that will make you a better wizard. The Dark Lord is magically gifted, but he rose to power because he dedicated himself to learning every scrap of magic that was important to him,” Harry hung his head, he understood what Severus was saying, he should be studying so that he’d be a good enough wizard to face Voldemort. Severus stepped out into the hallway. “However,” Severus continued talking, as he walked back through the doorway almost immediately, this time with a large trunk suspended in the air behind him. ”In counterpoint, Albus studied every type of magic he came across, indiscriminately of whether or not he thought it would be useful to him. Which one would you say was the greater wizard?”

“Dumbledore,” Harry said quickly, his eyes on the trunk. It seemed a little hypocritical of _Severus_ to be giving Harry tips on how to study; he’d spent years telling Harry he was incapable of learning anything at all. “I was reading Ganymede’s book.”

Harry could hear the defensive tone in his voice and felt his cheeks warming in embarrassment. He didn’t need to explain himself; it wasn’t like he cared what Severus thought of him. 

“I see,” Severus said slowly, “And is there anything that you’d like to discuss after reading the Gaunt letters?”

There were definitely things that Harry wanted to think about in Ganymede’s letters. If Hermione were there he would have wanted to talk to her about them, but he didn’t want to discuss Ganymede’s Heat with Severus. Not when Harry’s own Heat was still so fresh in his mind. 

“No,” Harry said quickly, “Nope.”

“These are the rest of the things I brought from the moors,” Severus said, with a tilt of his chin towards the trunk he’d just brought in. “Have you eaten?”

Harry shook his head. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea that Severus had packed up his tent and his belongings. 

“Come, I will call for Aggy to bring you some supper,” Severus called as he went into the kitchen. Harry stood up slowly, stretching his back. As he walked into the kitchen he heard a cupboard door closing and realised that Aggy must have already left, because, on the table, was a plate piled high with food. There was a large slice of roast beef, a mound of mashed potatoes, some peas and carrots, all of it swimming in gravy. It looked delicious. Harry slid into his seat, grabbed his fork and immediately started eating. 

Whilst he ate, Severus puttered around the kitchen; Harry ignored him in favour of eating as much as he could. He hadn’t realised he’d been so hungry! Finally, Severus sat down opposite him with a teapot and two empty cups.

“You are aware,” Severus said with a small sneer, “That you are free to help yourself to food at any time during the day.”

Harry shrugged and then swallowed a large mouthful. 

“Yeah, it’s just…” It never really occurred to Harry to snack, or to get food apart from at mealtimes. He supposed that was what spending a lifetime with the Dursleys had taught him; not that he was going to tell Severus that. “It’s nice to eat house elf cooking again.”

Severus paused, his eyes narrowing. 

“Surely you had your elf on your camping trip?”

“Dobby?” Harry asked in surprise and then, without waiting for Severus’ answer, he shoved a large piece of meat in his mouth. Severus gave an annoyed sigh, but Harry didn’t know if it was at his table manners or his answer. 

“No. Kreacher.”

Harry chewed for a few seconds and then swallowed.

“There was an accident,” Harry said, looking down at his plate and pushing some peas around with his fork. He was ashamed as he remembered the disastrous escape from the Ministry after retrieving Slytherin’s locket. “We... One of the Death Eaters, Yaxley, was holding onto Hermione and we Apparated there...We were fleeing the Ministry and...Hang on, how come you don’t know all this? Surely Riddle sent Death Eaters to search Grimmauld Place after the Fidelius was broken.”

“Ah,” Severus steepled his fingers in front of his face contemplatively. “And this, I suppose, was why you decided to go on your little camping trip in the first place?”

“Well, yeah.” 

“You needn’t have been so concerned. If Yaxley did indeed break the Fidelius, he kept that fact quiet. Probably because he realised he was still unable to enter the house.”

“What? You’re saying we could have been staying there all this time? But, but why? Why couldn’t he get in?”

“The house will not suffer those to enter whom its master wishes barred.”

Harry frowned uncertainly. 

“But I never barred him. I mean, I would have, if I’d known that was a possibility, but I never…”

“No,” Severus folded his hands into his lap and gave Harry a look that was almost piteous. “No, Harry. I barred him.”

A coldness settled in Harry’s stomach. Severus’ words didn’t make sense. Severus wasn’t the owner of Grimmauld Place; Sirius had left it to him. A muscle in his jaw twitched but when Harry spoke his voice was level and calm. 

“You don’t own Grimmauld Place.” Part of him wanted to yell at Severus for even suggesting such a thing. Sirius would have been livid. He put his knife and fork down carefully, controlling his temper as best as he could. 

“Harry,” Severus reached out and tried to take his hand but Harry shook him off, not wanting Severus to touch him whilst he was telling this ridiculously stupid joke. “You know that’s not true. You’re my omega, what was yours is now mine.” 

Harry sat still. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears and the coldness in his stomach was spreading throughout his body. 

“You’re lying,” Harry said quietly, but when he opened his voice again he was practically screaming, “Why are you lying?!”

Severus’ eyes flashed angrily and any compassion that had been in them vanished. 

“I told you, the laws governing alphas and omegas are old -”

“The Omega Laws,” Harry said, remembering Ganymede writing about them. 

“Indeed. It is not something I take pleasure in,” Severus paused as Harry snorted loudly. “It is not my doing. It is simply the Magical Law of Britain, and there is nothing that we can do about it. Anything that you owned; anything that recognises your ownership through the use of magic, will now recognise me as its true master.”

Harry was going to vomit, the cold feeling seeping up from his belly and into his mouth. He coughed. His throat was tight, he couldn’t breathe, he was choking on air. 

“Dumbledore,” Harry stammered, “He said, he said, it was a meaningless technicality. That it didn’t matter.”

He pushed his plate away, sickened by the sight and smell of the food that he’d just been so excited by. 

“Harry,” Severus said, remaining seated as Harry walked away, “It is a technicality. It doesn’t-”

But Harry tuned him out as he walked out of the kitchen and into the sitting room. He didn’t know what to think, or what to feel. Dumbledore had told him that he wasn’t Severus’ slave, but he was really. He picked up his wand and lit a fire in the grate with a muttered _Incendio._

The fire burst forth angrily. Was this wand even his anymore? Would it recognise Severus as its master now?

Harry stared into the fire, his mind empty. He didn’t feel like himself anymore and he couldn’t recognise the person he’d become. He clenched his fist on his lap. He wasn’t the type of person to just sit and wallow in misery. He had a purpose; he was going to defeat Voldemort and avenge his parents. He was going to have a normal life, one day. He was going to follow Dumbledore’s advice. Once Voldemort was dead, he’d petition the Wizengamot to change the Omega Laws. He wasn’t going to live his life as someone’s possession. 

He sighed, unclenching his fist. At least Severus hadn’t been too awful about all of this. It seemed like Severus really did see the Omega Laws as just a technicality and it wouldn’t affect how he treated Harry. That didn’t make the situation alright, but it made it bearable. The second that Severus took advantage of the situation then Harry would...He wasn’t sure what he would do, but this was just a setback; a painful and unfair setback, but, right now, the most important thing was fighting Voldemort. 

He realised that he’d been staring, his eyes unfocused, at the fire. He blinked and became aware that Severus was standing near the sofa. 

“I,” Severus said stiffly, flicking his hair with a quick twist of his head. Harry had always thought his teacher looked arrogant when he did that, but now he could see Severus’ nervousness. “I brought you a present. 

“A present?” Harry asked in confusion. There was a time when anyone giving him a present would have filled him with joy. “Why bother? I mean, even if you give it to me, it’ll still be yours, won’t it?”

He looked away as Severus made an annoyed sound.

“This situation is hardly easy for either of us -”

Harry had thought that he’d calmed down, but there was something about Severus that always managed to irritate him. 

“Easy?! It’s perfectly easy for you! You’re a thief! Sirius -”

Severus bent over and grabbed his chin, pulling Harry’s head back sharply, his sharp fingers digging into Harry’s skin. 

“You will show me the respect that I deserve. You put yourself in this situation. You chose to become an omega and this is the consequence of that. Accept that and both of us will be happier.”

Harry glared up; he tried to pull his chin away but Severus was too strong. 

“You’ve never been happy in your life,” Harry whispered spitefully.

“You’re wrong, Harry,” Severus said, leaning down. He was watching Harry’s mouth and, for a second, Harry thought he would kiss him. Harry scrunched his mouth shut and looked away; but then Severus released him and stood upright and Harry thought he’d misunderstood Severus’ intention. “Here. Albus wanted you to have this.”

Severus took something from the pocket of his waistcoat and presented it to Harry on an outstretched palm. It was Gaunt’s ring. Harry choked back a sob. Why would Dumbledore leave him the ring that had killed him. He pick up the ring slowly; the metal slightly warm from being in Severus’ hand.

“The curse is long broken. You may wear it, if you wish.”

“Why? Why do you think he left it to me? What does it mean?”

Severus pursed his lips and took the ring back, studying it intently. 

“Albus did not intend for you to search by yourself. He knew that we would be together,” Severus picked up Harry’s hand and slid the ring on to Harry’s unresisting index finger. He was wearing a dead man’s watch and a dead man’s ring. This was why he had to continue, this was why he had to work with Severus; because he would not let Voldemort kill anyone else.


	15. Chapter 15

“Harry?” Severus asked softly. The ring on Harry’s finger was ugly; the rock misshapen and the engraving on it was crudely scratched on. He wanted to pull the ring off. It wasn’t his. Legally, it was Severus’. Harry shook his head and looked away. “I must make my evening rounds.”

Harry rubbed his hands together, the coolness of the ring felt odd against his palm. He didn’t want to talk to Severus anymore. They were in the midst of a war and defeating Voldemort was more important than being upset about becoming an omega. Harry couldn’t help but think of Sirius and how he would react to all this if he were still alive. He’d be livid; beyond livid. Of course, if Sirius were still alive then Harry would never have inherited Grimmauld Place. It would have destroyed Sirius to know that his home now belonged to Severus. _Belonged to Snivellus!_ he could practically hear Sirius screaming at him. Harry had let Sirius down and he’d never felt like such a failure. 

He blinked and realised that Severus had already left, though he hadn’t noticed him go. Harry slipped the ring off his finger and put it in his pocket. Just like Grimmauld Place, it wasn’t really his. He felt like a child again, without any possessions of his own, but desperately wanting to play with Dudley’s toy as he washed Aunt Petunia’s dishes. 

Ganymede’s book was where he’d left in on the sofa, but Harry didn’t want to read it anymore. It was just more proof of how terrible it was to be an omega. Why hadn’t Ganymede cared that he’d lost all his possessions when he’d bonded to Mr Ashcroft? He pushed the book away. Ganymede’s story was too awful to think about just now. Instead, Harry pulled one of his textbooks towards him and, opening it at a random page, began to read. It happened to be a Herbology book.The complex explanation of the properties of a plant that Harry had never heard of before dulled his brain and he tried to lose himself in his studies.

There were tears in his eyes and he had to wipe them away before he could continue reading. He didn’t know why the tears were there. 

The fight against Voldemort was more important than anything else. He was fighting one of the most powerful wizards in Britain and he couldn’t afford to be upset. There were still tears in his eyes and, even though Harry told himself he didn’t care what the cost of defeating Tom was, he couldn’t stop the tears from forming. He closed the Herbology book and, standing up, went to the trunk that Severus had brought into the sitting room. It hadn’t been locked and Harry was able to lift the lid easily. The inside of the trunk was larger than the outside, but most of it was taken up with the collapsed tent. Pressed against the side of the truck, folded awkwardly and more creased than it had been the last time that Harry had seen it, was a very familiar piece of parchment. Harry reached in and took out the Marauder’s Map. 

“I solemnly swear I’m up to no good,” Harry muttered as he unfolded the Map. Instantly the Map came to life, the lines of ink filling in the familiar halls and passageways of Hogwarts. He didn’t mean to search for anyone in particular, but his eyes seemed drawn to the little dot with the name _Severus Snape_ underneath it. The dot was moving quickly, so fast that Harry thought Severus must be running flat out, towards three other dots that were labelled _Amycus Carrow, Alecto Carrow_ and _Emilia Spigot_. Harry remembered Severus mentioning the Carrows before but he didn’t know who Emilia Spigot was though. 

The dot of Severus finally reached the group of dots and a few seconds later Emilia Spigot’s dot moved away, heading in the direction of the Hufflepuff Common Room. The Carrows set off on their way, heading towards the dungeons, with Severus following far enough behind them that Harry wasn’t sure whether the Carrows knew he was there or not. 

Harry cleared the Map and, folding it up, put it in his pocket. Was Severus out stalking the corridors to protect the students from the Death Eaters? Was he doing this every night? It made something clench in his chest. Severus made it so difficult to like him, he was always so sharp and vicious, but he wasn’t a traitor and Harry would be dead, multiple times over, if it weren’t for him. He wondered if Severus had just saved Emilia Spigot, and what the Carrows would have done to her if Severus hadn’t been there. When he was a student, he’d always dreaded being caught out past curfew by Snape; how bad was life at Hogwarts if Severus was the one saving students?

If Severus was going to patrol like he used to when Harry was at school then he could be away for hours. Harry yawned. It was bedtime and Severus wasn’t around. He knew that Severus wanted them to share a bed and although Harry had initially been appalled at the idea, it didn’t seem like such a big deal now. Just because Severus had proved himself to still be loyal to the Order and to Dumbledore, that didn’t mean that Harry owed him anything, but it was difficult to keep hold of his righteous indignation. After all, he knew what Severus looked like naked. He knew how dark Severus’ nipples were and the flatness of his stomach. He knew the thickness of his cock and how it felt to be impaled on it. 

Severus’ bed was large and Harry would be fast asleep by the time Severus came to bed. Compared to sharing his Heat, sharing a bed seemed insignificant. Harry sighed, annoyed at himself. Was he just being weak? Severus’ bed was large and comfortable, the duvet would be thick and warm and it would all smell of Severus’ delicious alpha scent. It was tempting. He could go to bed right now and curl up in comfort and just forget about all his troubles for a few hours, so long as he could ignore who would be sleeping next to him.

Harry picked up Ganymede’s book and made his way to the bedroom before he could start doubting what he was doing. His pyjamas had been folded and put away in the chest of drawers in the bedroom. Harry took them out and shed the clothes that he was wearing, leaving a pile of discarded clothes on the floor, only remembering at the last second to take the Map and ring out of his pocket and put them on the bedside table, tucking the Map inside the Prince’s book for safekeeping. 

He pulled back the heavy duvet on the side of the bed with the bedside table where Severus had left his wand and the Prince’s book; his side of the bed. Settling himself into the bed felt brilliant, like he was cocooned by warmth. Stretching out his limbs, his arms and legs spread wide, he still didn’t come close to touching the far side of the bed. Severus would have no reason to come too close to him in the night. 

His eyes felt heavy and he yawned again, he could drift off to sleep just like this, but he still hadn’t finished Ganymede’s story. With a sigh, he reached out, picking up the book from where he’d left it at the end of the bed whilst trying to stay as tucked under the duvet as he could. Propping himself up on the pillow so that he could read more easily, Harry opened Ganymede’s book and found the next letter.

_Sophia,_

_Thank you for understanding. This is a difficult time, but I have every hope that the future will be better. Life with Mr Ashcroft remains the same, the only change has been of my own perspective._

_Would you blame a wild creature for biting your hand? Mr Ashcroft is an alpha and I have spent my life hidden away so that I would be safe from the attentions of alphas. Can I blame him for his nature? I have always been told that alphas are brutes, whose every action is dictated by their base instincts. If that is true then I must lay the blame for my current situation firmly at our Father’s door._

_He told me that my bonding with Mr Ashcroft would bring me only goodness, that it didn’t matter that I did not know Mr Ashcroft, nor that I could not desire a man so much older than myself. The bond between an alpha and omega was supposed to sooth over all such ills. Father told me that the bond would make my husband attractive to me. Perhaps Father truly believed that to be true, however I look at Mr Ashcroft with the same eyes as I did before the bond._

_I had thought that there was something wrong with me, but now I believe that this attraction only occurs during my Heat. For all the violence and terror of that time, I cannot deny the passion I felt in my body, even if I felt nothing in my heart._

_Father brought me forth into this world, corrupting and changing his own child whilst I was still in our Mother’s womb, so that I would be born an omega. My pregnancy is the culmination of our Father’s work. It is true that he regrets making me an omega now, but for the longest time he truly believed that this was the life I deserved; bonded, knotted and carrying. I have always tried to correct you whenever you speak ill of Father, to try and be a dutiful child, but I can no longer. Despite all my years of filial piety, I can no longer believe that Father has my best interests at heart. His treatment of me, I see now, has always been as a scientist views the results of his experiments; with pride, perhaps even a sort of affection, but without love._

_It is a bitter thought and it makes me cherish all the more the love that you and I have always shared, dearest sister._

_Your offer was very kind, and I am grateful that you continue to think of me, when I seem to do nothing but complain. There is no need, and no point, in sending such a potion as you suggested in your letter. My magic already protects the child within me and even the strongest potions would do more damage to me then they would to my unwanted guest._

_I do love the stories of your Herbology lessons! Plants can bring such joy and they have a magic to them that even Muggles may comprehend. Of all the subjects that you study it seems the most egalitarian, although I had no idea that so many Magical plants were carnivorous. Are you certain that you are taking all the necessary precautions?  
All my love, Ganymede. _

Harry closed the book and put it on the bedside table. At least that letter hadn’t been as dramatic as the previous letters. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be pregnant, and Ganymede hadn’t even wanted to be pregnant in the first place. Harry rubbed his belly distractedly and thought back to those times when he’d first began to find Severus attractive. He’d convinced himself that it was just the effects of the bond, acting on his mind somehow. No, he hadn’t convinced himself, it had been Severus who had told him that it was the effect of the bond. Had he been lying, back then, or did he believe, as Ganymede’s father had, that the bond would cause an attraction between them? Beyond this one book, how much more information did Severus have?

Ganymede’s bond didn’t force arousal outside of Heat, but Harry had been attracted to Severus before his Heat. And it couldn’t be some magical aspect of the bond forcing him to fancy Severus because he’d stopped fancying him after he’d killed Dumbledore. He’d loathed the sight of Severus then. Which meant that any attraction he felt towards Severus was because of Harry. Nothing had forced him to feel that way. He shook his head, refusing to believe it.

Was it possible that Harry had truly found Severus attractive, without any kind of magical coercion? Ganymede was arguing that the bond didn’t make him fancy his mate, but it wasn’t like Ganymede knew everything about being an omega. He’d been the first in a thousand years. He would have been faced with the same lack of information as Harry had been. He’d had to rely on what his Father had believed, without knowing for certain. 

He nodded to himself and closed his eyes. Magic was the reason that he noticed the way that Severus’ hair looked silky, or the way that his dark, expressive eyes seemed to burn. Those things wouldn’t have appealed to Harry otherwise, no matter what Ganymede thought. 

He felt like he’d only just closed his eyes when he woke with a start. The bedroom light was still on and he was alone. George’s old watch was still on his wrist and his glasses were still on his nose, but his eyes were blurry from sleep. He blinked and stretched out, touching the other side of the bed, Severus’ side, which was cold, empty and untouched. Surely the man couldn’t still be out on patrol?

When he’d blinked the sleep from his eyes, he was able to read the time on his watch. It was just after two in the morning. He yawned and undid his watch. The skin on his wrist felt clammy and he rubbed it for a second before taking his glasses off. The light was bright but he left it on so that Severus would be able to see when he finally came to bed. 

The bedroom door opened with a creak, but Harry had just put his glasses down and he couldn’t see clearly. He’d left his wand on the bedside table and, cursing himself for not leaving it under his pillow, he scrambled for it now. 

“Harry,” Severus said softly. Harry stilled as he heard his voice, his muscles relaxing slowly. Of course it was Severus, who else would be down here? The air outside the bed covers was cold and he shivered minutely.

“Tired,” Harry muttered, tucking himself back into his warm cocoon. The lights dimmed and Harry felt the bed dip beside him and a heavy arm was slung across his chest. He groaned slightly, too sleepy to tell Severus to bugger off. The arm tightened around him, like a metal band, dragging him across the bed until he was tucked against Severus’ warm chest. Harry nuzzled his head to find a comfortable position, in the back of his mind there was a reason why this was wrong, but, right now, he was too sleepy to dwell on what that reason was. He made another little noise in the back of his throat. 

“Shh,” Severus said, rubbing his shoulder lightly and Harry let himself drift back to sleep. 

For the first time in weeks, Harry dreamed. Nothing happened in his dreams, there was no narrative; he was back in the Gryffindor Common Room, lounging in front of the fire, and then he was back in his cupboard, playing with the spiders that had been his childhood friends; places where he’d happy, times when he hadn’t worried about Voldemort or horcruxes or the Prophecy.

He woke with a start, Severus’ arm was still around him and Harry was trapped in place. 

“Get off,” Harry said, his voice sounding too loud in the quiet room as he tried to squirm away. Severus opened his eyes, and looked at Harry in confusion for a few seconds before appearing to remember who Harry was and what he was doing in Severus’ bed and, as he remembered, his face shuttered, the emotions being neatly tucked away behind a blank expression. He let Harry go at once, who rolled away and grabbed his glasses. 

“Good morning,” Severus said, reaching for his wand to check the time with a quick _Tempus_ spell. It was nearly seven thirty, still early, but Harry couldn’t imagine staying in bed with Severus. He got up, but his pile of clothes was gone. Severus must have tidied up after him late last night. The thought wasn’t a good one. He’d behaved just like Dudley used to - leaving his things lying around for someone else to clean up. All those accusations that Severus had thrown at him over the years, that he was spoiled, that he was lazy, Harry had just proved them true with one moment of uncharacteristic carelessness. 

“You, er, picked up my clothes,” Harry said, not quite asking what Severus had done with them. Severus had closed his eyes, but he re-opened them now, his beady black eyes watching Harry carefully. 

“I sent them to the laundry bin,” Severus said neutrally. He wasn’t gloating about how he’d been right all these years about what lazy brat Harry was. 

“Oh,” Harry hands picked at the hem of his pyjama jacket. Severus’ lack of vitriol was making him uncomfortable, turning the situation into one of quiet domesticity of the sort that he’d never experienced before and he wasn’t sure how to cope with it. “Thanks.”

Severus’ nodded and closed his eyes again. It was not the reaction that Harry had expected, where was Severus’ sharp comment about how he’d been right all along, and how Harry had just completely vindicated him? He frowned, feeling wrong-footed and went to the bathroom. 

After he’d finished showering, he put his pyjamas back on. The cloth stuck to his skin, making him feel dirty again, but all his clean clothes were in the bedroom and he couldn’t walk into Severus’ bedroom wrapped only in a towel. It didn’t matter though, because Severus had got up whilst he was in the shower; the room was empty and the bed had been made. 

He got dressed and went to find Severus, who was in the kitchen making coffee. A plate of breakfast food had been put on the table, which Harry assumed was for him. Severus probably had to be seen in the Great Hall for breakfast, but he still hesitated to sit down. He could feel himself salivating as he looked at the plate of bacon, eggs, fried tomatoes and sausages. He was starving hungry. 

“Sit,” Severus said, suddenly closer than Harry was expecting, making him jump slightly, “Eat.”

Harry didn’t comment on Severus’ abrupt orders, only quirking his lips in annoyance as he sat down and began to eat, devouring the food in front of him so quickly that his plate was half empty by the time Severus sat down, putting two cups of coffee on the table and pushing one towards Harry. He took it with a mumbled thanks, his mouth full of sausage. Harry had never really noticed before today, but Snape always made sure that he had food. Usually preferring to serve food that he himself had prepared. It was oddly touching. When he’d lived at the Dursley’s he’d never been sure when, or even if, he going to be fed. Severus could be rough and abrasive, but he had always looked out for Harry. Now that he had a position of power over Harry, he wasn’t abusing that authority in a way that the Snape that Harry had known as a student would have done. He swallowed and opened his mouth to thank Severus for the food, but then stopped when he saw how angry Severus was, his dark eyes flashing and his lips pursed so that they were turning white. 

Harry couldn’t imagine how he’d managed to get Severus this angry in the short time since he’d woken up.

“Severus?” Harry asked, putting his cutlery down cautiously. 

“The great Harry Potter,” Severus sneered, lifting his coffee cup with a mocking flourish, “Whose bravery is vaunted across the Wizarding World,” he continued sarcastically, “And yet you flinch away from me whenever I am near you.”

“I don’t!” Harry said animatedly. He hadn’t meant to flinch earlier, he just hadn’t expected Severus to be that close to him. It wasn’t that Harry wanted to be near him, but he certainly wasn’t afraid of Severus. 

Severus made disbelieving noise in the back of his throat, low and growl-like in that way of his. Harry picked up his coffee cup and took a gulp, not comfortable with how those noises made him feel. The coffee was too hot, burning his tongue and he wanted to spit it back into the cup rather than swallow, but then he’d just be proving Severus right, that he wasn’t brave and strong. Harry swallowed; he could feel the coffee burning his innards. 

“I don’t,” Harry repeated dully. Harry shrugged half-heartedly and didn’t bother to try and explain himself. After a few seconds of strained silence, he picked up his knife and fork and got back to eating his breakfast. 

“Have you thought more about yesterday’s conversation?” Severus asked, leaning back and watching Harry over his coffee cup. Harry frowned, not sure which conversation Severus meant. Was he asking if Harry had more thoughts or questions about Ganymede’s letters?

“Oh,” Harry said, realising his mistake. “About Horcruxes!” 

“Indeed,” Severus said in a bored tone. “Our discussion was interrupted, however we still have much to talk about. Before the Dark Lord can be defeated we must destroy three Horcruxes, two of which are artefacts linked to the Hogwarts Founders. We know for certain that Hufflepuff’s cup is one of those, but not what the second Horcrux might be. The third Horcrux is Nagini.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, pushing his now empty plate away from him and reaching for his coffee. It was funny because he’d been thinking about this for months, but talking like this made him feel rejuvenated and hopeful. With Severus by his side the search for Horcruxes might actually be a lot easier. Severus knew his way around the Wizarding World, and Harry felt far more confident in Severus’ abilities than he’d ever felt with Ron and Hermione. It was a bit disloyal even thinking that, but Severus was just so reassuringly solid that it made Harry think they could accomplish whatever would be necessary, without the frustrating impotence that Harry had so often felt on their camping trip. 

“There are very few items that are associated with the Founders and almost all of them have been lost in the mists of time. Searching for any one of them would be an undertaking that could fill an entire lifetime, especially if the Dark Lord chose the artefacts arbitrarily, choosing whichever happened to fall into his possession rather than those that had a particular meaning to him. We have no idea whether to look for Slytherin’s quill or Gryffindor’s tea spoon.”

Harry snorted to himself. He hadn’t heard of either of those things, and he thought Severus must be joking about Gryffindor’s tea spoon being a real artefact except he didn’t think that Severus had a sense of humour, so the tea spoon must be real.

Severus paused and took a sip of his coffee. Harry waited for some barbed comment about how he shouldn’t laugh at Severus, but, when Severus remained quiet, Harry sipped his coffee too. It was a better temperature now, and easier to manage. 

“So,” Severus continued, putting his cup down on the table, “I believe that we stand a better chance looking for the Dark Lord’s hiding places rather than what he may have actually hidden there. Do you agree?”

Harry put his half empty cup on the table and considered. It wasn’t how Dumbledore had wanted him to search for Horcruxes, and it wasn’t how Harry had been working with Ron and Hermione; for a second Harry thought about telling Severus just that. But, instead, Harry nodded his head, this was a new approach and a different way of thinking about the problem and he welcomed it. “Yeah. That sounds right.”

Severus tapped his fingers on the table, drawing Harry’s attention. He remembered how cold those fingers had felt during his Heat, and yet they’d felt so hot last night as they held on to Harry, pressing him into Severus’ side as if he was a cherished possession.

“Well?” Severus said impatiently. “Where do you suggest that we look first?”

He looked up in surprise. Even though Severus had already shown far more willingness to listen to Harry than he’d been expecting, it was still surprising to hear him ask for Harry’s opinion. He paused, licking his lips. When they’d been camping, they had discussed this very topic endlessly and fruitlessly, but this felt like a fresh start. 

There were two places that he’d wanted to go, where he’d thought would be excellent Horcrux hiding places, but had been unable to get to. First, there was Godric’s Hollow. He just felt drawn to the place and he had to think that Tom felt the same way. Second, there was Albania. Voldemort had lived there for years and would know the country very well. It was so far away from all his enemies that it would make the perfect hiding place. Harry had never imagined that he’d actually be able to got to Albania, it was so far away and, even if he, Ron and Hermione, had managed to get that far, then they would still have had to search an entire country. It would have been impossible to do, so he’d given up being able to look for himself and just hoped that Tom hadn’t left a Horcrux in Albania. Now, with Severus’ help, he could visit both these places, as long as he could persuade Severus that it was a good idea. 

“Godric’s Hollow,” Harry said quickly. Severus shook his head minutely, the movement was only noticeable because of the swaying of his hair. “And,” Harry rushed to continue before Severus could object further, “And Albania.”

“The Dark Lord,” Severus said leaning back with a strange look on his face, “Is well aware of the allure that Godric’s Hollow holds for you. There may be a Horcrux there, but it is unlikely, especially as he set a trap to catch you, should you decide to visit.”

“A trap?” Harry stiffened, “What sort of trap?”

“I do not know,” Severus shook his head abruptly, his hair swinging. Had his hair always moved that freely? Harry was sure that in the past it had used to stick together in greasy clumps, but, after seeing it like this, that was almost impossible to remember. Harry kept his eyes on Severus’ hair as he pondered how well he was beginning to understand the man, and how much better he was getting at reading Severus. In the past he would have said that the Severus’ curt answer and tightened lips were a sign of his annoyance at Harry for asking too many questions but now he could see that Severus was unhappy that he didn’t know what trap Voldemort had set to catch Harry in Godric’s Hollow. “The Dark Lord is abroad at the moment, but even before he left he had become increasingly paranoid and unwilling to share his secrets.”

“Abroad? Do you think he went back to Albania? Doesn’t that -”

Harry cut himself off as Severus shook his head again and then, in embarrassment, he bit his lip. When had he ever allowed Severus to silence him in the past? Especially with just a shake of the head!

“There are rumours that he is in Germany. If the Horcrux is in Albania, and the Dark Lord has gone to fetch it then he would have returned after a few minutes. No, whatever he is planning in Germany is about something other than Horcruxes.”

“Other than Horcruxes?” Harry repeated with a feeling of dread. What else did Voldemort have up his sleeve besides Horcruxes? Dumbledore had planned what would happen after his death, how the Order would continue to fight Riddle, but had Dumbledore known about whatever it was that Riddle was searching for now. Severus waved his hand dismissively. 

“It is unimportant.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. He’d been honest with Severus, and told him everything he knew about Horcruxes, yet Severus knew what Riddle was up to at the moment and wasn’t sharing it with him. 

“So, then, as we may not go to Godric’s Hollow, you believe that we should travel to Albania?”

“Er, well,” Harry said slowly. Was it really that simple? Could he just say that he thought it was a good idea and Severus would agree with him? Ron and Hermione had not wanted to even listen to his suggestion that they go to Godric’s Hollow and he’d never even mentioned going to Albania to them because he knew they would have thought it was impossible. “Yeah. Yes. We should go to Albania.” Harry nodded, watching to see how Severus reacted. 

“Very well,” Severus stood and picked up Harry’s dirty plate and put it next to the small sink. Harry blushed and stood up quickly, not used to other people cleaning up his things and he felt as uncomfortable as he had earlier, when he’d learnt Severus had tidied away his clothes. 

“Tell me what Riddle’s doing in Germany,” Harry said, trying to sound confident.

“Tell you?” Severus drew himself up to his full height and stepped closer to Harry until he was practically looming. “I see you’ve recovered enough to start making demands.” Severus’ breath smelled of the coffee he’d been drinking and Harry ducked his head, trying to look around him but he felt boxed in and surrounded. Harry stepped backwards and Severus did not follow him. “I expect you to continue your studies now that you have finished Gaunt’s letters.”

“I haven’t finished them,” Harry muttered before remembering himself and jutting his chin up defiantly, daring Severus to comment on what a slow reader he was. Severus took a step backwards too, and tucked a strand of long hair behind his ear. The look didn’t suit him, without his hair in his face Severus’ nose looked even bigger and uglier. 

“No?” Severus raised an eyebrow, but he suddenly didn’t seem able to look Harry in the face as his eyes roamed over the kitchen and anywhere except Harry. If Severus was capable of being embarrassed Harry would have said that he was embarrassed right now. He paused and looked closer at Severus’ cheeks, trying to decide if he was blushing or not. Professor Snape had been humourless, and un-embarrassable, but maybe Severus, his alpha, was a different kettle of fish. 

He definitely had to finish reading Ganymede’s book and find out what it was that made Severus look, if not embarrassed then, at the very least, uncomfortable. 

“I,” Severus cleared his throat with a shallow cough, “I have decided to change the spells around the Headmaster’s Office. I’m sure you will find the changes,” Severus paused, finally meeting Harry’s eyes, “Beneficial. I shall be in the Headmaster’s Office for most of the day, if we are to journey to Albania then there are a lot of arrangements that need to be made as quickly as possible so that we can leave as soon as term finishes. If, once you finish Gaunt’s letters, you wish to find me then I will be there.” He gave a curt nod of his head before turning and striding from the kitchen. 

Harry got the book from the bedroom. The Gaunt ring was resting on top of the book and he slid it back on to his finger. It might not be a pretty thing, but it was a reminder that Horcruxes were vanquishable and, in a perverse way, it reminded him of Dumbledore. Settling down on the comfortable sofa in the sitting room, Harry found his page with a sense of foreboding. He hoped that Ganymede had managed to escape what was happening to him, but he didn’t see how.

_Sophia,  
Did you prompt Father to write to me? I received a letter from him this morning. There were words of apology, but I cannot find it in my heart to forgive him for placing me in this situation. He told me that he believed that once I was bonded then all my concerns, all my hopes for the future would cease; that I would magically be attracted to my alpha through the strength of the bond. I do not know what ancient text he got that from, or if it is simply a lie that he hopes will sway me in his favour. _

_During my Heat, it is true, I did desire my alpha. But I would never lay a finger on that man when the insanity is not upon me. He is repulsive, in body and in spirit. I look forward to the school holidays with such anticipation. When you are with me my heart is always lighter. G_

 

Harry pursed his lips as he read. Ganymede felt so real to him that he was beginning to dread finding out what happened to him. Nonetheless, he turned the pages quickly until he found the next letter which began abruptly, without the usual greeting. Harry skipped back a page and read that some of Ganymede’s letters had been lost, including the first half of the letter he was about to read.

_The lump swells within me. I had to Transfigure my clothes to fit me. I cannot bear to look upon myself. Mr Ashcroft is constantly touching me, praising my beauty. I am grateful however that we continue to retire separately. I cannot let this thing within me grow larger. At night I dream that the child is devouring me, consuming my viscera. It is a fevered dream brought about by my own unhappiness. What if the child is an omega? If not this one, then what of the next one? Or the one after? Mr Ashcroft has plans to breed on me an entire generation of alpha and omega wizards. It is unsupportable, G_

Harry’s jaw clenched, as he read Ganymede’s letter. Ganymede’s life had been destroyed by being an omega and Harry felt tears in his own eyes as he imagined the state that Ganymede must have been in to write like this. He felt like he’d come to know the other omega through these letters, a sort of friend even, and it pained Harry to read this letter. He took a deep breath and turned the page, hoping against hope that the next letter would be better for Ganymede. 

_Sister,_

_I must apologise for the incident at Christmas, please let us not speak of it again. I could not bear it if we did not reconcile. You are my only ray of happiness in this dark land. I was not myself. I said things that I did not mean. I shall do nothing to harm either myself or the life that grows within me. For Mr Ashcroft, however, I can make no such promises. You have heard now, for yourself, the way that he speaks, seen the way that he treats me, the intentions that he has. Do you believe that I am unjustified in wishing myself free of him? It would be such a simple thing. A drop of tasteless potion in his evening brandy would be all that was required. With his death the Anti-Apparition wards would fall. My biology may keep me trapped to him, but that does not mean that I must endure him. Please, please, tell me that you will think no less of me for this. G_

Harry gasped as he realised that Ganymede intended to murder Mr Ashcroft. It was such a terrible situation and Ganymede seemed to have no choices, no alternatives and no way of leaving his hateful mate. Would Harry himself do the same thing, if he were in Ganymede’s situation? He was close to the end of the book and he turned the page to get to the next letter, but there was just a long page of analysis of the last letter. Harry frowned and quickly turned through the remaining pages, searching for the next letter, but there wasn’t one. Turning the pages back he found the information he was looking for:

_On the 17th January, Aurors were called to Clefyd y Galon by the housekeeper, Myfanwy Cothi. Both Gaunt and Ashcroft were dead. Judging by the positions of the corpses it was estimated that the two Wizards had dueled and neither had survived their fateful encounter. After Gaunt’s last letter was found Aurors came to the conclusion that Ashcroft had caught Gaunt as he attempted to poison him and had retaliated in a brutal and fatal fashion. Gaunt was pregnant at the time of his death and by the time that his body was taken to St Mungo’s the fetus was already dead. Healers were able to establish that the child would have been an omega._

Harry slammed the book closed. Poor Ganymede had never had a life; from before he’d even been born he’d been marked. He’d never even had a chance. Other people had decided every aspect of his life and, when he finally tried to make his own choices about his body, he’d been killed. There was a lump in Harry’s throat and he couldn’t swallow. He didn’t want to be alone. 

Severus had said that he could come and see him once he’d finished reading Ganymede’s letters. At the time, Harry had dismissed the idea, but now he was grateful that Severus had made the offer. He got up and left Severus’ chambers only hesitating when he reached for the door to the Headmaster’s Office and he remembered Severus saying that he would change the spells on the door. 

He pushed the door open, and it opened as a normal door, with no hint of whatever spells Severus had put on it. At first glance the room seemed empty; there was no-one sitting behind the Headmaster’s desk. 

“Harry?”

Severus was standing next to the fireplace, his hands resting on the mantlepiece and his head turned to watch Harry with a worried expression. He supposed he must look very strange. There were tears in his eyes again and he knew he’d made a mistake coming here. He’d been so upset after reading how abruptly Ganymede’s life had ended that he hadn’t cared that Severus was the only person who he could turn to, but, really, what could Severus do to help him? He doubted anyone, even the most homesick First year Slytherin would be so foolish as to cry in front of Professor Snape. 

“You finished reading Gaunt’s letters,” Severus said. It wasn’t a question but Harry nodded anyway. 

“He,” Harry began, swallowing around the lump in his throat, but then he was stuck and not sure what else to say. “He had no choice.”

Severus looked even more worried and he stepped towards Harry until he was close enough that Harry could reach out and touch him. It wasn’t something that Harry had ever thought he’d want to do, but it wasn’t like they were strangers. Harry knew, intimately, what Severus’ body felt pressed against him. He stepped forward, bridging the distance between them and leaned into Severus, resting his head on Severus’ chest whilst his arms dangled at his sides.

Severus froze, not moving away but not accepting Harry either. Had he made a mistake getting this close to Severus? Reading about Ganymede's death had made him feel so alone; it had been so devastatingly sudden. Even if Ganymede had actually died hundreds of years ago, Harry grieved for him. He wanted to reach out to someone else who knew about Ganymede's story, but maybe touching like this was only acceptable during his Heat. Harry started to move away but then he felt Severus strong arms around him, cautiously encircling Harry as if he were fragile and delicate, liable to break if Severus held him too tightly. 

He’d been hugged by Severus before, months ago. This time felt just as good, but there was none of the awkwardness that he’d felt back then. After all the other things that they’d done, this was less invasive, yet somehow far more intimate. Harry relaxed, his arms coming up so that his fingers could tentatively grip onto Severus’ waistcoat. Despite everything that Harry had learnt about alphas; the alphas that he’d met himself and the evil Mr Ashcroft, Severus had never treated him poorly because he was omega. He’d never hurt Harry at all. Severus seemed to perpetually defy all the rumours of alpha viciousness. The arms around him slowly tightened, pressing Harry’s cheek into his hard chest and it was suddenly too much for Harry. Severus was too close and this was too much like his Heat. He felt just like Ganymede, trapped and desperate. He flattened his hands and pushed, trying to get away, but Severus’ grip was too strong and he wasn’t letting him go. Harry’s stomach lurched in sudden panic but, just as quickly as, Severus released him. 

Harry stepped backwards, stumbling slightly. Of course Severus would release him; Severus had held him in his arms all night long whilst they’d shared a bed, but hadn’t done anything else, he hadn’t tried to do the things they’d done during Harry’s Heat. 

“Thanks,” Harry said, stepping back as Severus’ arms fell to his sides. Harry sniffed loudly and unpleasantly, his nose snotty from being on the verge of tears. “Sorry.”

“It is,” Severus paused but Harry was too mortified to look up and see what expression was on his face, “It is of no consequence. You are always at liberty to touch me.” 

Harry nodded listlessly, not really listening. Just because every other alpha that Harry had learned about was monstrous didn’t mean anything for his relationship with Severus. He would judge Severus on his own merits, not compare him to other alphas. He sniffed again. There was something reassuring about being able to turn to someone else when he was upset. Now that the moment had passed he had no idea what to say, should he just leave?

The fire flared, flames spitting out of the fireplace angrily and making Harry jump in surprise. The tips of each flame had turned emerald green, but the rest of the fire was still resolutely orange. 

“Hello?” a disembodied female voice called out from the fire. “Is this Floo blocked? I have an appointment with the Headmaster!”

Severus turned away and bent down to talk into the roaring fire. 

“You are early, Miss Cloddall,” he said coldly, “Our appointment isn’t until noon.”

“Oh, sorry, Headmaster. Isn’t it?” the voice stuttered, “Isn’t it noon now?”

Severus sneered at the fire, “I think you will find that it is still five minutes to noon. You will Floo me back at the correct time.”

Harry looked at the clock on the wall behind Severus’ head. It was exactly noon. 

“Erm, yes. Alright, Headmaster. My mistake. I’ll Floo again in a few minutes.” 

“Five minutes, Miss Cloddall!”

The fire died back down, once again becoming an ordinary looking fire now that no-one was trying to get through the Floo. 

“It is noon,” Harry pointed out, once he was sure the stranger wouldn’t be able to hear him. 

“Yes, but I have a certain reputation to uphold,” Severus said snidely, his lips twisting in an unpleasant smile, that forcibly reminded Harry of the years that he’d seen that same vicious smile on his Potion teacher’s face.

“Would she have been able to get in if I wasn’t here? But she couldn’t because of the Auspex Exclusion?”

Severus nodded in obvious surprise that Harry had been able to remember the name of the spell. He frowned; Severus had always been vocal about how stupid he thought Harry was, but even he was capable of remembering a word from one day to the next. 

“That is correct, Harry. I would not ask you to leave, but unfortunately she won’t be able to come in while you are in here. However I have modified the door to the corridor in a way that I think will appeal to you.”

Harry shrugged; he’d much rather leave than stay and have to talk about why he’d hugged Severus, or what he thought about Ganymede’s letters. “OK,” Harry said blandly, turning to leave without asking who the woman that was about to visit Severus. He shut the door behind him, and leaned back on it heavily. The door gave an odd shiver and, seconds later, Harry heard the same female voice clearly ask if it was noon yet.

“It is, come through,” Severus said as Harry made himself comfortable against the door. Turning to rest his head against the door, Harry was shocked to see that the door was completely gone; it had vanished. He could feel that he was still leaning against it, the smooth wood rubbing his forehead, but the door itself was transparent. He watched in amazement as a woman stepped out of the Floo, but she didn’t spare him a glance. Harry reached out and traced the planks of wood with his fingers, if he squinted he could sort of see the wood, but other than that the door had completely vanished. This was the spell that Severus had put on the door. He’d done this so that Harry could see what was going on in the Headmaster’s Office. It was such a thoughtful gesture. Harry bit his cheek, feeling overwhelmed. Mr Ashcroft would never have done something like this for Ganymede. 

“Sit down. May I offer you some tea?” Severus asked, settling himself into the large chair behind the Headmaster’s desk.

“Thank you!” the woman said, slightly breathlessly, as if she couldn’t quite believe what was happening to her. She seemed flattered that Severus was even offering her tea. Harry pressed harder against the door; he didn’t care if Severus invited pretty women to his office for lunch time meetings. He didn’t mind if Severus offered breathless women tea. 

Severus waved his wand and a few seconds later a tea tray appeared on his desk. 

“Thank you for coming at such short notice.”

“It’s fine,” the woman twittered nervously, blushing slightly. She was not, Harry decided, a particularly intelligent woman. Nor was she pretty, her cheeks were ruddy and her eyes were too small. “I usually try to get away at lunchtimes anyway and, of course, when I got your note this morning, I was eager to help in anyway that I could.”

Severus grimaced slightly and took the lid off the teapot to peer inside. At first Harry assumed that he was checking to see if the tea was brewed enough to drink, but then he saw Severus tap his finger oddly over the open teapot and Harry realised that Severus had just put a few drops of a potion into the tea. It was very subtly done and the woman, who was looking around the room with wide eyes, didn’t seem to notice that anything was amiss. 

“I, er, only came up here once as a student, you know.”

“Fascinating,” Severus said flatly, pouring the tea and passing her a cup. He poured a cup for himself and put it on his desk with an air of finality; Harry knew that Severus had no intention of drinking any of his own spiked tea.

“Yes, well, erm, what was it that you wanted my help with? It’s just if I’m away from my desk for more than half an hour then I’ll get into trouble.”

Severus stayed quiet for a few drawn out seconds. He was, Harry thought, probably hoping that the woman just drank her tea and whatever potion he’d put in there would start to work so that he didn’t have to continue talking to her. At last, he gave an aggravated sigh. 

“Ministry business and the affairs of Hogwarts so often seem to overlap, do they not?” Severus began. Miss Cloddall nodded and took a sip of her tea. “That was why - “

The woman slumped back in her chair, barely keeping hold of her teacup so that her tea sloshed into her saucer, but it didn’t fall to the ground. 

Severus leaned back and tapped a long finger against his chin. 

“Do you remember, Miss Cloddall, a woman you used to work with by the name of Bertha Jorkins?”

The woman's’ lips quivered and she finally let go of her teacup so that it clattered to the floor, spilling tea all over her robes. Severus Banished both the tea and the cup with a wave of his wand as she began to talk, her voice now sounded higher and thinner, as if she were distressed.

“It was so sad, Headmaster!” her voice broke slightly, sounding like she was on the verge of tears, “So sad! I never listened to her!” she wailed loudly, “She spent days talking about her trip, she was so excited and I just sat there and sort of tuned her out. And then, and then,” she sniffed loudly, “She never came back! She wasn’t always so bad, I mean she always loved to gossip, she'd tell me the same stories about our colleagues every day. Sometimes two, three times a day. Who she thought fancied whom, who she thought was stealing the departmental ink, who was late to work every day. I should have, I should have paid more attention to her. I should have listened to her!” One fat tear streamed down her cheek, but it was just the breaking of the dam because the woman let out an inarticulate wail, hiccoughed and then the tears began to stream down her face.

Severus made an annoyed noise and tapped impatiently on the desk. 

“You should have drunk less tea. Where in Albania did she plan to go?”

Behind the door, Harry’s eyes widened. Severus was trying to find out what had happened to Bertha Jorkins so that they would know where to look for the Horcrux in Albania. He’d listened to Harry’s opinion and was acting on it. 

“It was such a strange little name, like a spell, Tempus or Lumos. No, that wasn’t it. Her aunt was Albanian, a muggleborn from this little village. She said, she said she thought it was romantic because her uncle went there on holiday and that’s where they met and fell madly in love and got married and came back to live in Britain. I think she was hoping that she’d go there and fall in love too. She was always so lonely,” the witch sniffed, her lips quivering before she burst out in another high pitched wail, “She was always asking if I wanted to eat lunch with her! And I always said no! I never had any time for her!”

Severus sighed loudly, unaffected by the outburst. 

“What was the name of the village?”

Miss Cloddall shuddered and, seeming to gather herself, sat up a little straighter in her chair. The potion must be wearing off because when she spoke again she sounded calmer.

“I’m so sorry, Headmaster. I don’t know what came over me, I just...I just...” she trailed off as she became distracted looking at her lap. 

“That’s fine,” Severus said magnanimously, “Before you leave, would you tell me the name of village?”

Harry had never heard him be so polite but Miss Cloddall stood up quickly, her chair tipping backwards dangerously far before it righted itself. 

“Oh! Lumos, no, Lumas. Yes, that’s right! Lumas! That’s where she was going!” Miss Cloddall smiled tightly as she adjusted her robes. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help with, er,” she frowned as Severus stood from behind his desk and began to usher her towards the fireplace, “I couldn’t help with what you were asking about.”

“It is of no consequence,” Severus said, picking up a small pot from the mantlepiece and offering it to the witch. She took a pinch and threw it into the fire. The flames turned green but she paused before stepping into the Floo. 

“Is this Hogwarts?” she asked, sounding surprised. 

“You are late, Miss Cloddall, your lunchtime is nearly over,” Severus said, so quietly that Harry almost missed it. 

“Oh! Oh yes,” Miss Cloddall nodded distractedly as she stepped into the fireplace and was instantly whisked away. The door that Harry was leaning against suddenly became visible, the wood blocking his view completely and the hinges creaking under his weight. Knowing that Severus was now alone, Harry opened the door. Severus was still by the fireplace, putting the pot of Floo powder back in its place, but he turned to watch as Harry entered the room. There was, Harry noticed, a difference in the way that Severus watched people. The way that he looked at Harry was far more intense than the way he had watched Miss Cloddall. 

“What did you give her?” Harry demanded as soon as he entered the office. 

Severus shrugged, not looking the least surprised to see him. “Just a little something to jog her memory and her honesty. It should also make her recollection of this meeting indistinct,” he drawled, making Harry frown. He’d told Severus all about the Horcruxes, but Severus wouldn’t even tell him the name of the potion that he’d used. It seemed like just another example of how unequal things were between the two of them. 

“What potion did you give her?” Harry asked as Severus walked over to the bookshelves, running his long fingers over the weathered leather spines. 

“Hmm?” Severus hummed distractedly as he pulled a large tome from the shelf. 

“What’s the name of the potion that you gave her?” Harry said, without realising until the words had come out of his mouth how forceful he sounded. Severus seemed to realise at the same moment that Harry did, stilling as he opened the book with a bang and glaring at Harry before looking down at the book. Severus loudly turned a few pages of what Harry now saw was an atlas before stopping on a map that seemed to please him. He made a triumphant noise in the back of his throat and put his finger on the page. Harry leaned closer but he couldn’t see what Severus was pointing at until he took a step nearer. There, almost hidden by Severus’ finger, was a small village called Lamos

“Aren’t you going to thank me for changing the spell on the door?” Severus asked coolly, his finger still pressing down on the map, pinpointing exactly where Harry would start the search in Albania as his fingertip turned red. Harry glanced between Severus dark eyes and his finger. He should thank him for changing the door, and for tracking down where in Albania Bertha Jorkins had gone on holiday, but Severus still hadn’t told him the name of the potion. 

He swallowed slowly. He wasn’t going to have his questions dismissed, but he wasn’t going to start an argument after Severus had actually done something so surprisingly thoughtful as spelling the door for Harry. 

“Thank you for the door.”

Severus nodded, looking rather surprised that Harry had thanked him. How rude did Severus think he was?

“The potion doesn’t have a name, it is a mixture of bases that are far beyond NEWT level, so you needn’t concern yourself with the mechanics of it. I concocted it myself, but it has very little marketable value,” Severus said, meeting Harry’s eyes the entire time that he spoke. Harry looked away, it was awkward to keep on looking at Severus. He couldn’t gaze into Severus’ eyes like they were lovers. His eyes lowered and he found himself looking at the many buttons of Severus’ waistcoat. He had put his hands on that waistcoat, he knew what those buttons felt like pressed against his cheek and the way that Severus arms folded around him as he held Harry close. Harry coughed, clearing his throat noisily. 

“I can go to Lamos tomorrow,” Harry said, smiling enthusiastically. The hunt for the Horcruxes was back on - he had a new lead and he just knew that going to Albania was a brilliant idea!

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Severus snapped, closing the atlas with a loud bang. “It’s only a few days until the end of term. You shall recover properly from your Heat and then _we_ will Floo to Albania at the start of the Christmas holidays.”

Harry’s grin slipped slightly, his excitement dampening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time since I posted! I'd really like to thank everyone for their support, kind words and patience. Thank you!


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